A Trusted Friend In Science
by Sweet Christabel
Summary: In the years before GLaDOS, Chell and Doug witness events at Aperture that stay with them forever. Years later, they both find themselves drawn back, forming a partnership to discover what secrets the company is hiding. Separated by disasterous circumstances, forced into lives as lab rat and test subject, they find the only thing they can rely on is each other. Slow-burn Chellmann.
1. The Mystery of the Vanishing Brit

**Disclaimer -** I sadly do not own Portal or any of its characters, but I like to bring them out to play sometimes.

 **A/N:** This story came about when I decided to explore the concept of Chell and Doug knowing each other prior to GLaDOS's activation. The way Doug speaks about her in Lab Rat makes me think that they probably don't, however it's a fun idea to play around with here.

I've tried to make this story as canon-compliant as possible, but Valve are purposely vague about their timeline! Everyone has their own ideas about when things take place in the Portal and Half-life universe; this is my version. The dates are mostly to show the passage of time, however, so if they don't match up with your version of events please feel free to ignore!

I've been working on illustrations for this story, which will be posted on my Deviant Art page. Check out the link in my profile :) Illustrations will be posted along with the relevant chapters to avoid spoilers.

I want to say a massive thank you to my friend Tiffany for being my American editor and making sure that nobody sounds too British (with the exception of Wheatley, obviously) :D

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 **1993.  
The Mystery of the Vanishing Brit. **

Chell didn't like Caroline.

It was a decision she'd reached at the age of eight and nothing would sway her from it. She'd thought it carefully through, and she had more than one reason for her dislike, making it a well-rounded opinion. In her limited experience, that was how adults reached decisions, and she was pleased that she'd mastered it already.

Objectively speaking, it was no real fault of Caroline's that Chell didn't like her, although the young girl was hardly the only one who felt that way. Caroline was a textbook example of single-minded corporate success, beginning with boundless enthusiasm in the 1950s, bypassing the distractions of the 60s, to her taking over the company in the 80s. Keeping her inherited venture afloat through dire financial troubles turned warmth to cold efficiency. She had no time to worry about whether she was liked, just as long as science got done and bills got paid. Outstanding bills hindered the flow of development, halting the progress of science, and she never stood for that. Caroline was a businesswoman and a scientist, and she had little time to be anything else. That was what made her so good at her job.

From Chell's rather unique point of view, Caroline was the matriarch of Aperture Science Laboratories, the proud mother watching over her offspring. So what if her offspring was a sprawling underground fortress of scientific achievement. It made no difference to the way she treated the place. Chell had no time for mother-figures. She'd had two walk out on her. She didn't trust them. Her birth mother had given her up when she was three days old, then, years later, her adopted mother had left too. Caroline reminded Chell of a mother, and so she disliked her.

Secondly, Caroline was her dad's boss, and was therefore the reason why Chell saw more of babysitters during the week than she did of her father. She disliked her for that too. Thirdly, on the few occasions that she had visited her dad's work place, Caroline had almost completely ignored her. On the off chance that she did acknowledge Chell's presence, the stern-featured CEO never remembered who she was.

Chell did _not_ like Caroline.

That said, she _did_ enjoy the rare visits to Aperture. Her dad's work place was mysterious and exciting. The insanely long elevator ride always felt like it was taking her down into the lair of a James Bond villain. Several times she half expected to be greeted by the sight of Caroline in a big office chair, stroking a fluffy Persian cat and speaking in a peculiar accent. That had never happened, of course. Caroline was probably far too busy to sit around stroking cats. Chell had never known what her job entailed, but she gathered it involved a lot of important striding around and shouting at people.

And then, out of the blue, she was gone. Chell's dad stopped talking about her, and Chell hadn't seen her when she'd visited. When she questioned her dad about the grey-haired woman's absence, he'd hesitated and said, "Promotion."

The satisfactory answer and the finality of her dad's tone had led her to only one conclusion: she could happily forget all about Caroline. So she did.

Two years after that, a sitter cancellation after school saw Chell on her way down into the depths of Aperture to wait for her dad to finish work.

After several months of confusion, Caroline had finally been replaced by a man called Lazarus Grey. Chell didn't much like him either. He was too self-important, and nowhere near as impressive as his fancy name seemed to promise. As the elevator reached the floor of her dad's department, Chell kept her eyes peeled for Lazarus's short, dumpy figure. Although he never minded her being there, (provided she stayed in low-clearance areas), she preferred to avoid him where possible. He was puffed-up and irritating, and always spoke to her in a patronising way that made her feel like a toddler. She was ten years old, not stupid. It baffled her that grown-ups got confused over that fact, especially considering that they'd once been ten too.

She was so busy watching out for Lazarus that she walked headlong into someone else, a rather annoyed someone who dropped their clipboard and muttered a word that Chell wasn't allowed to use. Only her shock kept her from emitting a nervous giggle. Instead, she leapt back, staring at him in silence.

"Aren't you going to say sorry?" he snapped, gazing in dismay at the jumbled-up papers scattered across the corridor. "You weren't looking where you were going."

"You bumped into me too," Chell said defensively. "That means you weren't either."

The stranger looked somewhat surprised to be talked back to. "What?"

Chell's indignation fizzled out in the face of his astonishment. "I mean…sorry," she backpedalled. Her dad wouldn't like it if she was rude, and she was in no mood to be grounded.

The young man frowned at her, but it wasn't an angry frown, simply a curious, slightly irritated one. She wasn't intimidated by him. He was dressed like a scientist, but he wasn't one. He was too young, and his lab coat didn't fit his skinny frame properly. She guessed he was only a few years older than her, in his late teens at the very most.

"Why are you dressed like that?" she blurted out.

He blinked at her, taken aback. "Why am I dressed in a lab coat in a science lab?" he said slowly, part sarcastic, part patronising, all annoying.

Chell huffed, folding her arms. "You're not a scientist," she pointed out. "You're just a kid."

"I'm eighteen," he fired back indignantly.

She continued to wait for an answer while he scooped up his fallen papers. She debated helping him, but he'd finished before she could reach a decision.

"If you must know," he said eventually, rising to his feet, "I'm here on a student placement."

Chell wrinkled her nose in confusion. "What's that?"

He drew himself up self-importantly. "Like an internship, but more casual. I'm still in college, but Aperture gave a few of us the opportunity to work a couple months here to see what it's really like. If we do well, the company might employ us when we graduate, but that won't be for a while."

As he spoke, Chell recalled her dad mentioning something about college students, and how Aperture couldn't be bothered to organise the proper paperwork for official interns. A kind of work experience was much easier all round, and still might result in new recruits for the company. Chell didn't understand the ins and outs of it, only that Aperture was, once again, not doing things by the book.

"So you're going to work here?" she asked him, suddenly regretting her attitude, hoping it wouldn't get back to her dad.

"Maybe," the boy said with a shrug. "I'll see how things go. But what about you? You're obviously not a student. How did you get down here?"

"Elevator," Chell mumbled, irritated with his superior tones.

 _Just like the boys at school_ , she reflected idly.

He glanced briefly at the ceiling and sighed. "I meant how did you get past reception?"

"Joanie knows me," she explained reluctantly." I'm here to see my dad."

"Who's your dad?"

He asked a lot of questions. She wasn't sure she liked that.

"Simon. In the Robotics division," she answered politely.

She saw a flicker of recognition change his expression. "You're Chell," he said. It wasn't a question for once.

"Yes," she confirmed, lifting her chin. "Who are you?"

"I'm Doug," he told her.

She narrowed her eyes. "Hopper or Rattmann?"

"Rattmann," he replied.

"Oh..." She scuffed the toe of her shoe on the carpet. "Well...good."

Her dad had never liked Doug Hopper. He called him a preening sycophant. Chell didn't know what that meant, but she had immediately decided that she never wanted to be called it herself.

A brief smile crossed Doug Rattmann's face, as if he wondered what she'd been told. She didn't enlighten him. It was sheer chance that she'd heard his name before. He was one of only two of the college students who had any real potential, according to her dad.

"Be more careful when you're turning corners, okay?" he told her.

She nodded, biting her tongue against a cheeky "You too".

Shouldering her school bag, she continued on her way. After a few minutes, she realised he was following her. Trying not to smile, she turned and addressed him. "You're lost, aren't you?"

He looked at her moodily, clutching his clipboard to his chest. "What? Of course not."

"You are," she challenged. "You're following me. Before, you were going the other way."

Doug gave a sigh, looking an interesting mixture of defeated and embarrassed. He probably didn't like being confronted by a girl, she decided.

"Okay," he said finally. "I'm meant to be in Robotics this afternoon. I've only been here two weeks, I haven't learned where everything is."

"Why didn't you just say?" Chell asked. "I know the way."

"I…should have. Sorry."

She beamed at him. She wasn't used to adults apologising to her. Even though he barely qualified, she would take it.

"S'okay. Come on."

They walked the corridors in silence, Chell confidently leading, Doug hunching his shoulders, as if he preferred not to be seen taking directions from a ten-year-old. Within twelve minutes they had reached the lab her dad shared with two of his co-workers.

"Hi, Dad," she greeted as they walked in.

At her words, her father glanced up. "Hi, honey," he replied with a weary smile. He was looking tired. There were splashes of oil marring the brightness of his lab coat. His russet hair was starting to turn salt-and-pepper, and faint lines at the corners of his eyes were beginning to look more pronounced. Chell hadn't noticed it before today, but he was looking older, more stressed, and there was less of a sparkle in his dark eyes.

"Rattmann," he added, his voice a stern bark, "you're late."

Doug straightened up. "Yes. Sorry, sir. I…er….was…."

"I fell over," Chell spoke up. "My stuff spilled everywhere. Doug helped me pick it all up."

Her dad peered at them both. Chell wasn't sure if he believed her or not.

"Were you hurt?" he asked after a pause.

"No."

Another long pause followed. Then her dad gave a nod. "Good. Rattmann, go next door to the store room and get files 1138 and 1139."

Doug nodded and did as he was told. Chell perched herself on a tall stool, leaning her elbows on the work bench.

"So…exactly how lost was he?" her dad asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.

Chell's eyes widened in surprise, then she grinned. "Completely! He was going totally the wrong way."

He chuckled briefly. "It was kind of you to cover for him, but don't make a habit of lying like that, okay?"

"Does it still count if you caught me?" she asked, eyes wide and innocent.

"Yes. In fact, I'd say it counts more."

She frowned. "Oh."

"What homework have you got?"

Chell pulled a face. "Science and math."

"Why the long face?" he asked, tapping her on the nose. "You're good at both of those."

"But I don't _like_ them," she declared dramatically.

"We all have to do things we don't like," he said, his expression unsympathetic. "It's part of growing up."

"Can I not, then?" Chell muttered stubbornly.

Her dad laughed. "Go ahead. You'll save me a fortune on clothes if you stop growing."

Doug returned to the room, the box files under his arm. "Found them, sir."

"I have a meeting to go to," her dad told him. "Every month Robotics meets with Artificial Intelligence, since we often work closely together. It's authorised personnel only, I'm afraid, and I can't let you do anything practical without someone supervising you. So I want you to take a look at the notes in these files and see if you can come up with any ideas to solve the problems we've run up against."

"Okay," Doug said with a nod, eyeing the box files. "Are they cancelled projects?"

"Not if you come up with solutions! I've got to run. See you later. You," he pointed at Chell, "homework."

She rolled her eyes, but dragged her books out of her bag.

Her dad headed for the door through to the conference room, where his colleagues were gathered. Then he snapped his fingers and turned.

"Oh, I'm expecting someone. An employee. I've forgotten his name but he's tall, British and wears glasses. When he turns up, send him through."

"No problem," Doug assured.

Her dad disappeared into the conference room, the door closing firmly behind him. Chell exchanged a glance with Doug, then they both got to work. Fifteen minutes in, she had almost completed her math homework, and glanced up to see how her companion was doing. Doug was looking very solemn, frowning down at the pages in the files as if they were personally ruining his afternoon. He was an odd-looking boy, awkward and serious, yet coupled with the cockiness that every teenager possessed. He had a thick mop of untidy black hair, and curiously mismatched blue eyes. His face was beginning to lose its childish roundness, and his nose looked as if it needed growing into. The girls at school insisted that teenage boys were handsome, (always chattering about this TV star and that boy band member), but this one certainly wasn't. Chell, in all her ten-year-old wisdom, was beginning to think that the girls at school didn't really know what they were talking about.

The sound of running footsteps cut through her reflections, and Doug glanced up from his work. A tall, lanky man skidded to a halt just inside the door, his glasses slipping to the end of his nose. He was panting hard, trying to untangle a pen from his I.D. lanyard without much success. He jabbed his glasses into place with a finger, then sent Chell a grin.

"Hello," he said brightly. "You're a bit young to be working here, aren't you?"

She wasn't sure if he was joking or not, so she smiled politely and said nothing.

"I know I'm late, right," he went on, "but just how late are we talking? I mean, can I blame it on pedestrian traffic or, or, or..." He halted and switched track. "How long has the meeting been going on? Do...do you know? Does either of you know? Because I'm supposed to... You know the junction, right? Down the corridor there? You can turn left or right, and this office is to the right? Only went left, didn't I! Don't want to blow my chances, so I don't, um, don't exactly want to admit that I got lost. Seems a bit, y'know, unprofessional and what have you."

"The meeting's being going on for about fifteen minutes," Doug told him when he paused for breath. "They said you could go straight in."

"Right. Right...Right-o. Thanks, mate. Just...going to go on through this door then. Nothing to be nervous about. Just a performance review. I've done it before, I'll do it again. Do it lots of times, probably."

Chell glanced at Doug. He raised an eyebrow at her and she tried not to giggle. The British man was a panic attack waiting to happen.

"Okay," he said resolutely. "I'm ready."

Without looking back, he knocked tentatively on the conference room door, then entered the meeting.

"That was weird," declared Chell.

"Very," Doug agreed.

Silence settled over the lab once more. Chell finished her math and started on the science. Despite the appropriate surroundings, she found herself struggling with it, feeling the time drag the grumpier she got. She huffed, sending loose strands of hair flying away from her face, and let her forehead sink down onto the page with a quiet thunk.

She sat like that for a few moments, then heard Doug say calmly, "I'm pretty sure absorbing knowledge like that doesn't actually work."

"How do you know?" she demanded sulkily.

"Because I've tried."

"When?" she asked, lifting her head.

He put down the page he was reading, frowning as he considered. "Two weeks ago," he stated eventually.

"What happened?"

"My girlfriend laughed at me and I didn't learn anything."

Chell pulled a face, but found nothing to say.

Doug got up from his seat and walked around the table to look over her shoulder. "What are you stuck on?" Although his intervention was kind, the tone of his voice implied that he was quite pleased to flaunt some of his knowledge.

Chell explained, gesturing to the question with the end of her pencil. Doug read it swiftly, then pointed her in the right direction without giving away the answer.

"Can't you just tell me?" she whined in exasperation.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you won't learn if I do that," he said imperiously.

She fixed him with a glare and was irritated to see him holding back a smile.

"You're really annoying," she stated.

"Yep," he replied, unruffled. "Until you figure out the answer. Then you'll like me."

He returned to his problem-solving looking decidedly smug. Chell reluctantly turned back to her textbook, not wanting to take his advice on principle, but desperately wanting to finish her homework. The two sides of her fought it out for a few minutes before she backed down. She read through the question again, keeping Doug's pointers in mind. In a single victorious move, everything fell into place in her brain, the solution fitting neatly into the picture with a satisfying click, like closing the door on a room recently tidied. She scribbled it down at once.

"Told you," Doug said, his tone distinctly complacent.

"I still don't like you, though," she shot back, but she couldn't help grinning at him.

She raced through the rest in record time, then sat in silent triumph, doodling cats on her school bag. The backpack was already covered in fading grey lines where she'd scribbled previous cartoony animals.

"Why cats?" Doug asked, apparently easily distracted as he tried to think something through.

Chell shrugged. "I like cats. They're smart and cute and they can take care of themselves. With dogs you have to do everything for them. That's why Dad says I can't have one. But cats are good too."

"Did you ever hear about Schrödinger's Cat?"

"Shrow...ding...what?"

"Schrödinger's Cat," he elaborated, rhythmically tapping his pen against the work bench. "It's an experiment, kind of. A thought experiment to make us think about reality."

Chell rested her chin on her hand, eyeing him sceptically. "Why would I want to think about that? I'm _in_ reality."

"But what you perceive as reality might be different to what someone else does."

"What's that got to do with a cat?"

He shifted in his seat, straightening up as he prepared to explain. "Okay. A cat goes into a box with a container of poison. The box is sealed for one hour. The container might break and poison the cat, or it might not. There's no way of knowing while the box is sealed, so theoretically the cat is both dead and alive at the same time."

"It can't be," Chell argued. "It has to be one or the other."

"But we don't know which if the box is sealed." His eyes were bright, his voice more animated than it had been so far. He was very enthusiastic about science, Chell noted.

"So just look inside," she said slowly, wondering why he hadn't thought of that before. Perhaps all that science had clouded his common sense.

"After the hour is up, you look inside," he told her. "Then it becomes one or the other. One reality or another."

"So they count it as both because they don't know for sure?" she asked.

"Basically, yes. It's a lot more complex, obviously, but–"

"Why can't they just say that they don't know?" she interrupted, frowning. "Why do they have to get all complicated and drag reality into it and stuff?"

Doug stared at her for a long moment and she realised he had no answer. She tried not to smile smugly.

"Because..." he began lamely.

The slam of the conference room door made them both jump as it swung open and hit the wall. The bespectacled British man hurtled out, followed by Chell's dad and two of his co-workers. One of them swiftly moved to block the door to the main corridor.

"No, no, no, no!" the British man was yelling. "You can't make me! It's _insane_ , mate! No way."

"Calm down," her dad said, his voice authoritative. "You're getting carried away."

"Too bloody right, I am! By you lot! I'm not doing it!"

"Think it through," his colleague said smoothly. "It's a once in a lifetime opportunity."

"Once in a lifetime. Is that meant to be funny?" the British man snapped, jabbing his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. "I _have_ thought it through, and I'm leaving. Right now."

Her dad reached out a hand, placing it on the man's arm. He jerked away immediately.

"Get off!"

In a calm voice, her dad suggested, "Come back into the conference room and we can discuss this rationally and in private."

The British man scoffed. "Yeah, we all know why you want to discuss it in private. You don't want anyone to know, do you? What about the politics?"

One of the co-workers, Sarah, frowned. "Politics?"

The British man considered briefly. "No...the other one. Ethics, that's it. What about the bloody ethics, eh? Have you thought about that?"

"We have the full cooperation of Lazarus Grey," her dad told him. "There's nothing to worry about."

"Oh really?" the Brit said with heavy sarcasm, hands on his hips. "So why aren't _you_ doing it then?"

Chell's dad attempted an encouraging smile. "Because none of us are qualified like you. We need you, your skill set. Your talent for...saying the right things."

"Flattery isn't persuasive, you know. You've not properly tested it, have you?" the British man yelled, tracing a wonky oval on the floor with his erratic pacing. "It's, it's a prototype piece of technology and you want to just...just throw someone's personality in there willy nilly–"

Her dad held up his hands, cutting him off. "Okay, look. Nobody is going to make you do anything. All we want is for you to come back into the meeting and discuss all the aspects of it. If you're still against it by then...well, we'll be disappointed, but we'll just find someone else. Okay?"

"I'm not going to change my mind," the British man declared, halting his pacing and folding his arms.

"Finish hearing us out anyway."

It was not a suggestion, but an order. Chell didn't much like the hard, cold edge to her dad's voice.

The British man's shoulders slumped. "All right. But it won't make any difference, I'm telling you that now."

With visible reluctance, he stomped back into the conference room. Chell saw her dad exchange a glance with his co-workers. She didn't know what the look was supposed to mean, but she instinctively didn't like it. Like the coldness in his voice, it didn't suit him and didn't bear any relation to the man she knew. He sent her a glance as he headed back, and she stared at him with wide eyes, hoping for a reassuring smile. She didn't get one. He was a stranger.

When they had the lab to themselves again, she and Doug exchanged concerned, confused looks. They didn't talk about it. Doug went back to his file notes and Chell tried to read a book. The words kept swirling in front of her and she couldn't concentrate. Something about the conversation she'd witnessed spooked her, triggered by some warning instinct that she wasn't yet old enough to fully understand. Doug's silence indicated that he was troubled too. He was nearly grown up, she thought. If he was disturbed by it, then her instinct was right.

She flinched when the conference room door opened again an hour later, letting out a steady stream of Robotics and Artificial Intelligence staff members. Her dad strode out last, smiling. All traces of aloofness were gone. So, it seemed, was the British man. The conference room was quiet.

"Good news, we've settled on a date for Bring Your Daughter To Work Day. It will be in three weeks, on Friday." He rested a hand on Chell's shoulder. "You'll come and make a potato battery, won't you?"

"I already made one in school," she answered, her voice quiet.

"Then you'll know what to do. Come on, let's get you home. Rattmann, you can go too. Report to me in the morning, provided you can find your way here without my daughter's help."

Doug's expression would have been amusing if Chell had been in a laughing mood. His mouth opened, but no words came out of it.

"Yes, sir," he managed eventually.

Chell hopped down off her stool and picked up her bag. Her dad gathered his things while Doug tidied his work into neat piles. The three of them walked the corridors to the elevator in silence. The doors closed, and they found themselves on their way up to the world above.

Chell stared at the wall ahead of her, it's outdated, grey surface blurring before her eyes. All she could think about were snippets of the conversation she'd heard, the British man's utter panic.

 _'It's insane, mate!...it's a prototype piece of technology and you want to just...just throw someone's personality in there._ '

She couldn't see how that was possible, and concluded that she must have misunderstood. Chell was a clever child who was fully aware of how little she knew about her dad's work. She didn't want to make snap judgments about things she didn't understand, but her intuition was already racing ahead of her rational thoughts, making her uneasy and apprehensive. She desperately wanted a comforting, simple explanation that would vanish her fears, but that strange, frosty edge to her dad's countenance made her think twice about seeking one.

In her peripheral vision, Doug made a sudden movement, drawing her out of her thoughts. As she turned towards him, his whole posture stiffened and his eyes grew wide.

"No," he muttered, a note of alarm in his voice. "What _is_ that?"

"What?" her dad said, sounding confused.

"Can you hear that? The...shouting… Didn't you hear it?"

He looked at them each in turn, and both Chell and her dad shook their heads. Her dad eyed him warily.

"That's the second time this week that this has happened, by all accounts. Are you feeling okay? Are you getting enough sleep?"

Doug hesitated, then shook his head. "Maybe not. I've been working hard. I'll..."

He paused again, and Chell had the distinct impression that he was hearing something else. She frowned and watched him swallow hard, his hands gripping the railing that lined the sides of the elevator.

"I'll make sure I get an early night," he finished eventually.

"Good idea," said her dad, clasping his hands behind his back. When the elevator reached the top, he strode out first, barking his goodbye on his way out of the front door, car keys already in hand.

Chell halted a few steps out of the elevator, pivoting to look back at the student. He had turned a shade paler, his expression worried. Despite her young age, she could tell it was a worry he was used to and tired of, a worry that plagued him and made him look older than his years.

"Not again," he muttered under his breath.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He glanced at her, surprised. "I'm fine. Thanks."

She shrugged, accepting his answer but unsure if she believed it. "Thanks for the help," she said, shifting her bag's weight onto the other shoulder.

A small, forced smile found its way onto his face. "Likewise."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I'm thanking you for your help too."

"Oh. You're welcome."

"Chell!" her dad hollered, unlocking the car.

Forgetting a farewell, she ran over, diving into the backseat as he started the engine. The vehicle pulled away from the Aperture parking lot and Chell slumped in her seat, her mind already turning over everything she had seen that afternoon and what it meant. She knew – although she didn't yet understand – that it meant _something_.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hope you enjoyed this first chapter. This is going to be a long ride!


	2. Bring Your Daughter To Work Day

**A/N:** I forgot to mention in the previous chapter's notes, I'm intending to update this story every Sunday unless real life stuff gets in the way.

Find me on Deviant Art as Sweet-Christabel to check out my illustrations for this story :)

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 **1993.  
Bring Your Daughter To Work Day. **

Doug knew something was going on. He wasn't told anything important at Aperture, far from it. His Long-Term Temporary Identification Card came with the lowest clearance imaginable, and the scientists only gave him the bare minimum of information. Yet, over the weeks he'd picked up snippets of conversation. He knew they were working on something big, something they were equal parts pleased with and nervous about. And it was going to be launched today.

Re-launched, they should have said. He'd overheard talk about how the thing had glitched the first two times they'd switched it on, but now, apparently, they'd built something to solve that issue. Doug didn't know what the project was, let alone what they could have created to stop it glitching. He'd figured that it was some kind of artificial intelligence. The A.I. division was the most secretive out of all the departments he'd visited so far, with Robotics close behind.

He knew there was no way on Earth that he'd be allowed anywhere near the project. There were full-time scientists that didn't rank high enough to attend, let alone a student who'd only just turned eighteen. Earlier in the week, he'd been told he'd be 'supervising' at the Bring Your Daughter To Work Day event. Babysitting, he translated. Doug didn't know whose idea it had been to launch the project on the same day as Bring Your Daughter To Work Day, but it was a ridiculous one. Half the parents who were bringing their kids in were needed in attendance at the launch, rendering the whole thing utterly pointless. It was simply a daycare activity now, rather than the parent-child bonding session it was supposed to be.

He drank his morning coffee, studying the calendar that hung on the wall in the kitchen of his tiny student apartment. Four days from today, he'd circled the date in red. The words 'Doctor's Appointment' were written in the space in the middle.

"It'll be fine," Lucy said from behind him, resting her chin on his shoulder, her arms slipping comfortingly around his waist.

Doug appreciated the embrace, but didn't believe the words. She meant well, he realised that, but she was wrong. He just knew it.

"You're just overtired," she went on. "I don't think there's anything really _wrong_ with you."

"Luce, I'm hearing things that aren't there. I keep seeing shadows out of the corner of my eye. It's...scary. I'm worried. And I've been ignoring it for too long now."

He turned in her arms, searching her hazel eyes for signs that she was as concerned as he was. He didn't see it. She _was_ anxious about something, but it wasn't the same. It wasn't that she was making light of it, but he felt she should be more in tune with his mood on this particular issue.

"It's like I'm losing my mind," he added grimly.

"Don't say that," Lucy told him. "It makes you sound crazy."

"What if I _am_ crazy?"

"Don't you think I would have noticed that by now?" she said lightly, smiling. "It's been five months."

He sighed, putting his mug down on the kitchen surface, resting his hands on her shoulders. "Don't joke about it, please."

The smile faded from her face. "I'm sorry," she said with a brief huff. "I just think you're worrying too much. It'll be nothing, you'll see."

"I hope you're right," he muttered sceptically.

She rose up on tiptoe to kiss him and he tangled a hand in the golden waves of her hair.

"I've got to get to class," she said when they parted. "I've got a lecture on the role of women in nineteenth century gothic literature."

"Sounds riveting," Doug commented dryly.

She hit him lightly on the arm. "It's interesting, actually! Will I see you later? Your place or mine?"

"I've got a hectic day ahead," he said. "Rain check?"

"Sure. I should probably catch up on some work anyway." She broke away from him and picked up her jacket, shrugging into it as she spoke. "Have a good day. And Doug...try not to worry, okay?"

He nodded. It was easier said than done.

"See you," Lucy called cheerily, already half way out the door.

"Yeah."

He didn't like admitting it, but he hated the way she glossed over his anxiety. He was no psychologist, but he guessed it was some kind of fear reaction. She didn't want him to have any serious problems, so she was in a state of partial denial.

Doug glanced at the clock and tipped the dregs of his coffee into the sink. It was time to head to Aperture. He hadn't made up his mind about the place yet. He had another week of work there before he went back to college, then years before he would have to decide where he worked permanently. It all depended on whether or not he got his degree. It could still all be for nothing.

Later, when the long elevator ride had taken him down into the depths of the Earth, he made his way to the suite of offices that would be hosting Bring Your Daughter To Work Day. He was feeling more than a little subdued about his day. Doug had never been good with children. He never knew what to say to them. With the exception of Chell, Simon's precocious ten-year-old, he'd never held a conversation with anyone more than five years younger than him.

He stood back to let a couple of senior scientists exit the room, catching fragments of their conversation as he did so.

"...activated in about an hour, I'd guess."

"That's pretty early."

"Why wait? Apparently she's ready to go."

"What about the I.D. sphere? Has it shut up yet?"

"No! Henry thinks it was..."

They moved out of earshot, turning a corner. Doug absorbed the information, although it meant little to him, and entered the room. Most of its occupants seemed quite happy to be there, with one obvious exception. He spotted Chell, sitting at a desk with her chin on her hand, unable to hide how unimpressed she was. Simon was nowhere to be seen. Probably at the project with the others.

The event began with an overhead projector slideshow about how to make a potato battery. It was dull and patronising, yet somehow difficult to follow. Doug had to give them credit for managing such a delicate balance. It was followed by a video of a short speech from a frail-looking Cave Johnson, the late founder of Aperture, which he had recorded in 1985. As soon as the presentation ended, the kids swarmed to pick up their supplies, retreating back to their tables with armfuls of equipment. As he looked around the room, he saw a vast array of expressions, ranging from excited to determined to despairing. He sent out a silent glance of commiseration to the latter kids.

The morning dragged, as he'd feared it would. Although he didn't get a chance to speak to Chell, he could feel the mutual sympathy passing between them. It didn't take her long to clock him, and he saw from her face that she knew he was as unenthusiastic as she was. She was a bright kid. He wondered what she'd thought about the confrontation they'd witnessed between her father and the British man. It had spooked her, he'd seen that much. That was probably the reason for the slight edge of trepidation that lingered behind her apathetic expression.

She rolled her eyes at him when he met her gaze, then bent her head over her work. He smiled, amused. From his position supervising the front of the room, he could see that she had almost completely covered her large sheet of paper with diagrams and notes. He raised his eyebrows, vaguely impressed, then found his attention pulled elsewhere as one of the younger girls threw her potato across the room in a fit of temper.

Sometime later, the issue resolved, he busied himself with wiping lumps of cold root vegetable off the wall, hiding his disgusted expression from the rest of the room. A glance at his watch revealed that nearly two hours had passed. As he dropped potato-covered tissue in the trash can, he wondered what was going on with the big project, whether it was doing everything they hoped. None of the scientists were careless enough to let slip what it was, and he wasn't brave enough to go snooping.

"Mr. Rattmann?" said a shy little voice, breaking through his thoughts.

He glanced down to see one of the girls, her brown eyes nervous and wide.

"Yes?" he said, trying not to snap.

"I don't know if I've done this part right. Can you come and check?"

"Sure."

He followed her back to her table, where he read over her untidy work and reassured her that she was indeed doing it right. She beamed at him, then continued with what she was doing. Encouragement was all she needed.

Doug smiled to himself and stood up, surveying the room. A familiar dark head was missing. He frowned and approached one of the scientists who was supposed to be supervising along with him.

"Where's Chell?"

The woman, Georgia, blinked at him. "Who? Oh, you mean Simon's daughter? Was she here?"

"Yes," he hissed. "She was right here. Now she's gone."

"Oh. Shoot, that's not good. You'd better go and look for her. She might end up somewhere she's not supposed to be."

He nodded and departed, wondering how successful he'd be at locating a girl who seemed to know the layout of the place better than he did. As he walked, Doug calculated how long she'd been gone, trying to think when he'd last seen her. With a sinking heart, he realised it could be anything up to twenty minutes. There were an almost innumerable amount of places she could have gotten to in that time.

He couldn't call for her. That might start a panic. Instead, he asked everyone he passed if they'd seen her. As the number of negative replies increased, so did the knowledge that he'd be in serious trouble if Simon found out.

Still hopeful, convincing himself that the glass was half full, he tried the cafeteria. It was practically empty, too late for breakfast and too early for lunch. There were two members of staff behind the counter, busily running a small, human-powered sandwich production line.

"Have you seen a girl come through here?" he asked. "About this tall, dark hair, blue sweater."

"No," one of them grunted. "We're too busy to be looking for missing girls. Lunches don't make themselves, boy."

He bit his tongue against a retort, turning to go. Then he spotted a pair of sneaker-clad feet carefully withdrawing under a table.

"Never mind," he muttered with a sigh.

He crouched down, peering underneath the table. Chell sat with her knees drawn up, not looking happy to have been found.

"I've been searching everywhere for you," he told her, trying not to be too accusing.

"I'm sorry about that," she said, sounding genuine, "but I was just so _bored._ "

He resisted the urge to smile. "I know. I get it. But you have to come back. What if your dad comes looking for you?"

"He won't," she mumbled, her tone melancholy but resigned. "He'll be busy all day. With Gladys."

Doug frowned. "Who's Gladys?"

"I don't know," she said with a shrug. "Someone he works with, I think. He talks about her a lot. But only when he thinks I'm not listening."

One of the catering staff came out from behind the counter, her face scrunched into the most disapproving of frowns.

"What are you doing under there?" she barked. "We can't be responsible for you, girl."

Chell slid herself out meekly, dusting off the backs of her jeans. Doug rose to his feet, smiling at the woman in an attempt to brighten her expression. It didn't work.

"We're leaving now," he told her. "Thank you."

"Make sure this doesn't happen again. And you, young miss, this is not a playground. People are trying to work."

Chell nodded diplomatically, her lips pressed tightly together. She was holding back some smart answers, no doubt. They left the canteen and its cheerful occupants behind.

"Did you finish your potato battery?" he asked as they started back.

"Yes. I did one in school last year so I knew what to do."

"Ah, I remember you saying. So yours should be better than everyone else's, right?"

She shrugged. "Don't know. But Dad...well, he told me not to tell anyone, but I guess you're okay. Dad gave me this stuff to put on it. It's meant to make it power things for longer."

"Isn't that cheating?" Doug asked, a wary note in his voice.

"I guess. I think he felt bad about leaving me on my own."

Another shrug. She did it a lot. Doug guessed it was a kind of defence mechanism, making her seem nonchalant, hiding when things hurt her more than she wanted to let on.

"Do I really have to–" she began, but her words were cut sharply off by a loud, wailing alarm.

The lights shut off and Chell screamed, more in surprise, he thought, than actual fear. Then the emergency generator kicked in and the corridor was drenched in dim, red light.

"What's going on?" Chell asked, not quite managing to hide her panic.

Doug bit down his own unease for her sake. "I'm not sure."

"Warning!" came a falsely-cheerful announcement. "Enrichment Centre air conditioning vent system compromised. Please evacuate the facility."

A trickle of apprehension made its way down Doug's spine. He didn't quite know how serious an air conditioning vent problem was. Attempting to keep his voice level, he turned to Chell and asked, "Where are the emergency exits?"

"I don't know!"

"Okay, don't worry. We'd better find everyone else. Come on."

They jogged through the eerie ruby glow until they found a group of scientists waiting for the emergency elevator. At the back of his mind, Doug reflected on how absurd it was not to have stairs, but then he remembered just how far down they were.

"I don't want to go without Dad," Chell said stubbornly.

"He'll make his own way out, don't you worry," he told her, hoping it was true. If it was a problem with the grand project, then Simon would be right there in the middle of things. He didn't share those thoughts with Chell, though. She was smart enough to reach that conclusion on her own if she was given enough hints.

The elevator doors slid open and people jostled them for room.

"Hey!" barked a tall, imposing-looking scientist at the front. "Stop that! There's a couple of kids here, let them through!"

Reluctantly, the crowd parted, leaving a clear path to the elevator. Doug ignored the fact that he'd been called a kid and gave Chell a little push towards the lift. They settled into a corner and Chell gripped the railing, her knuckles ivory.

"It'll be okay," he told her, feeling a pang of sympathy.

"You don't know that," she countered, and he found he couldn't disagree.

The elevator was huge, managing to fit the majority of the waiting staff members inside. It took them up so fast that Doug's ears popped unpleasantly, and they all stumbled as it slowed. They were met with a blast of chilly air as the doors opened, and they all filed out into the parking lot. There were already people waiting there, having come up from the other elevators located around the facility. Everyone was talking, trading theories on what the situation was and when they'd be allowed back down.

Chell gripped Doug's sleeve as people bumped into her, more concerned with their own well-being. Her grey eyes were wide with worry. She didn't want to get lost. Taking a risk of being trampled on, he crouched down. She understood at once and hopped onto his back, looping her arms around his neck. He hooked his hands under her knees to keep her from slipping and stood up. She was heavier than he was expecting, but he shifted her weight and fought his way towards the edge of the crowd.

He spotted Georgia with the rest of the kids and told Chell to give her a wave. Georgia looked relieved to see them both, and made a mark on her register. As he battled his way through, Chell kept an eye out for her father.

As it turned out, Simon didn't appear until almost forty-five minutes had passed. Doug spotted him emerging from the elevator and glanced down to tell Chell, who had spent most of the waiting time hopping from one foot to the other, trying to keep warm. Simon's face was pale, his expression grim. It made Doug feel unsettled. He wondered what had happened, now convinced that the evacuation had something to do with the launch of the project. Maybe it was another glitch that had caused problems with the air conditioning. He'd probably never find out.

Simon craned his neck, frowning as he scanned the crowd. Doug hoisted Chell onto his back again so she could wave to him. Eventually, Simon saw her. His relief transformed his face immediately.

The senior staff members at the front were discussing the situation. Doug hadn't a hope in hell of hearing what they were saying, but he didn't think they needed to take half the time they were taking. It was almost October, and the air was crisp. Having already been standing around in it for an hour, he was beginning to get joint-numbingly cold. Carrying Chell again was making his back ache, but she was desperate to see her father, and he didn't have the heart to make her stand.

Slowly, painfully slowly, a message was delivered at the front and began to make its way back. The crowd started to disperse, drifting to their various modes of transport. There was a tangible hum of grumbling in the air, like a swarm of lingering bees. Finally, the message reached Doug's ears. Everyone was being sent home, no one was permitted to retrieve their belongings. The latter part was being loudly argued by those who didn't have their car keys on them.

When there was room, Simon made his way over to them. Chell jumped down and ran to him, in need of a reassuring hug.

"Don't worry, honey," he said, planting a kiss on her hair. "It'll be okay."

"What happened?" she asked, lifting her head to look up at him.

"I don't know."

Doug got the distinct impression that he was not being entirely truthful.

"Thanks for looking after her," Simon said to him, sending him a genuinely relieved smile.

"No problem," he answered neutrally, keeping his suspicions from his face. Now was not the time to raise them.

"You'd better head on home," Simon went on, freeing Chell's arms from around his waist. "This will probably be cleared up by Monday."

"I hope so, sir," Doug replied diplomatically.

"Have a good weekend, Rattmann."

He nodded in acknowledgement. "You too."

Chell gave him a small smile, which he returned. It said everything she didn't want to say, including her gratitude that he hadn't told her father that she'd run away from the Bring Your Daughter To Work Day event.

Doug gave them both a nod, then turned, heading for his car, glad that he'd thought to keep his keys in his pocket. He sat for a while with the engine running and the heater on, waiting for the line of traffic to get through the front gate. He wasn't sure what he'd do with his unexpectedly free day. Now that his work day was suddenly over, he had nothing left to distract his thoughts from his concerns. The only thing he had planned for the immediate future was the appointment with the doctor. Until then, he had nothing to do but wait and worry about what they were going to tell him. He only hoped that his imagination was worse than reality. In the meantime, he was free to wonder just what was going on at Aperture Science.

* * *

 **A/N:** Can we get hugs for baby Doug please? Actually maybe not. He's going to be in greater need of them later on... *distant evil laugh*

There seems to be a general consensus in the fandom that GLaDOS became active on Bring Your Daughter To Work Day, however in the actual game, all that's said about it is that it 'did not end well'. Consider this is Aperture, that could mean a thousand different things! So in this story I decided to make BYDTWD the occasion when Wheatley went live as the intelligence dampening sphere and failed utterly at keeping GLaDOS under control. (Good job, Wheatley.)


	3. The Inevitable Pull Back

**A/N:** Less than a week after saying I'd be posting on Sundays and I'm posting on a Saturday. Go me! The reason being that tomorrow my time will be taken up with looking at sofas. Yes, my life is just that exciting. This is what adulthood is like, kids :D **  
**

Anyway, let's check in with Doug.

* * *

 **1999.  
The Inevitable Pull Back.**

Ever since leaving his not-an-internship in 1993, Doug hadn't been sure that Aperture Laboratories was somewhere he wanted to set foot again. Six years later, he still wasn't sure. But it was already too late. His application had been accepted, his interview was over, he'd agreed to his start date. They'd taken him on. Despite everything. Somehow, he wasn't surprised.

1993 was a year he would never forget. It marked the start of his relationship with Aperture Science and the beginning of his troubles. It was the year he was given a name to put to his problems, a name that carried a stigma he'd always have to live with. It was a stigma that proved too much for Lucy to cope with. She'd left him within a month of his diagnosis.

In his increasing cynicism, he hadn't been surprised, but it had sent him spiralling into a period of depression and indulgent self-pity. Only focusing on his exams had pulled him out of it, and even still, it had affected his grades. He'd passed, and passed well, but below the level his lecturers had predicted.

After leaving college, he'd drifted from one job to another, unable to settle. It took him a long time to adjust to his new medication, to the patronising therapy sessions, and the wary sidelong glances from people who knew. All the while, he was aware that people were more open-minded than he gave them credit for, aware that their reactions were twisted by his paranoia to seem worse than they were. Even awareness couldn't shake his opinions, however. For the first year or so of adjustment, he'd shut himself off from people.

Although they understood his need for self-preservation, his actions had hurt his family's feelings deeply. His parents, who still lived in the spacious home he'd grown up in in the city of Wyoming, had asked him to stay with them several times. He'd always refused. They never treated him any differently, but part of him feared they would start to if they saw him often enough. His elder sister, Julie, gave up calling after the first few stilted phone conversations, obviously picking up on his desire to keep their chats as short as possible. He'd convinced himself that she would start to resent him given enough time. Growing up, he'd always looked up to her. He hadn't been able to stand the thought of disappointing her.

Aperture didn't care that he had schizophrenia. Doug suspected that Aperture wouldn't care if he was a murderous psychopath, so long as science got done. Inevitably, he'd found his way back to the one place that was crazier than he was: a once-abandoned salt mine in the middle of nowhere in Upper Michigan. There was only one thing that made him feel okay with that: that he'd finally be able to get some answers regarding some of the more secretive projects that went on there. He'd be able to try and find out if everything was legal and above board, or whether, as he suspected, Aperture in fact encouraged out-of-the-box thinking that danced perilously close to being unsafe. What he'd witnessed in 1993, the incidents that had spooked him more than he cared to admit, had never left his thoughts. From time to time, he wondered if Chell still thought about it, or whether her father had given her some kind of explanation. He remembered her horrified expression as the British man had ranted before his disappearance, the way she'd stared at her father as if she'd never seen him before. Maybe she hadn't. That had been a harsh, cold side to Simon that even Doug had found jarring. He couldn't imagine how unnerving it must have been for the man's ten-year-old daughter.

He wondered if he would ever cross paths with Simon, or whether the robotics expert even still worked at Aperture. The facility was so huge, they might never meet even if he did still work there. Staff numbers reached the thousands. Doug was very much aware that he was about to become a tiny cog in a gigantic, eccentric machine.

On his first day in his new job, (which would be spent shadowing a senior scientist in the Vegetation Fuel Resources department), he sat in his car for a while in the parking lot, re-reading the paperwork that had been sent to him. He would start with a clearance level of three, (still two-point-five better than when he'd been a student), but would have a chance to work his way higher through every promotion. For the time being, he decided to simply try and work his way _out_ of the Vegetation Fuel Resources department, which he knew was merely a sophisticated term for potato batteries and the like. The fact that the company was actually trying to harness vegetable power was as amusing as it was bewildering, but he knew he had to start somewhere. Maybe he'd find that it wasn't as silly as it sounded, but later, when he began root vegetable research, he couldn't help wishing that his interview at Black Mesa had gone better.

The elevator ride down into the depths was nauseatingly familiar, as were the grey-walled corridors and the subtle smell of cold. Doug wasn't sure how cold could be considered a smell, but it was unmistakably _there_. Heating had never been one of Aperture Science's top priorities. He made a mental note to wear more layers under his lab coat.

They may not have been too fussed about heating the place, but the company _was_ willing to pay for and provide his prescriptions, something that he found rather unusual. When he asked Raj, his new line manager, he was told that Aperture provided all prescription and over-the-counter medication to its staff members to ensure that they were in top condition for work. Privately, Doug thought that that was a way of keeping sick days to a minimum while claiming it was for everyone's benefit. Still, he supposed he shouldn't complain. Anti-psychotics were expensive.

Within a month of working there, he felt absorbed enough in his work to grudgingly accept that he had made the right choice. He was still wary, still on the lookout for signs of what the company really valued, but he was content. For the time being, at least.

Within a year, he left Vegetation Fuel Resources behind him, settling more comfortably into the Image Formatting department, and for the first time he began to feel that he belonged there. The only problem was, he wasn't sure that that was a good thing.

* * *

 **A/N:** Only a short one this time because I didn't want to cover more than one year in a chapter. I'll try and get chapter four up during the week to make up for it, but no promises.

Just as a footnote, therapy is tremendously helpful for a lot of people and shouldn't be dismisssed as patronising. Doug is simply feeling bitter about it, and although this is third person, it's still from his point of view. Later, he may find that it was helpful for him too :)


	4. The Assistant's Assistant

**A/N:** Thanks to James Birdsong for the review. It's much appreciated :)

Check out my Deviant Art (Sweet-Christabel) for illustrations for this chapter.

* * *

 **2003.  
The Assistant's Assistant.**

In the ten years that had passed since the events of Bring Your Daughter To Work Day, Chell's curiosity had only grown. If her dad had been nonchalant about it, then perhaps she would have put it behind her and forgotten the whole thing. But he had been secretive, becoming irritable and snappy when she asked questions, and it had just increased her suspicions that there was far more behind it than she knew. The facility-wide evacuation had alarmed everyone, despite the fact that it had later been shrugged off as an unscheduled fire drill. Chell had quickly become convinced that it had had something to do with the top secret project her dad was involved in.

She had had a life since then, but she had never forgotten. Through school, through college, through her first couple of poorly-paid jobs, she had tried to discover what he was working on. It wasn't simply to satisfy her curiosity. Throughout the years, her dad had become more and more involved in his work, to the point that she barely saw him. She now rented her own house that she shared with a college friend, and the family home had spiralled downhill since she had left. Her dad never mowed the grass or cleaned, and his neighbours confirmed what she'd begun to suspect: that he often stayed at work for days at a time. She was worried about him, and he wasn't being forthcoming at all, so she'd gotten herself a job at Aperture.

She was casually interested in science, but she was by no means qualified. To get her foot in the door, she'd landed herself a job as Lazarus Grey's assistant's assistant. It was an unimportant role and only part-time, but she needed to be where her father was, to keep an eye on him if possible. The fact that Lazarus was still CEO had surprised her, as even as a child she had questioned his competence. She doubted she would see him much, though. She reported directly to Marlene, his first assistant.

Chell gazed at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, smoothing down her hair, slipping in a clip to keep it out of her face. Her trouser suit was cheap but relatively well-tailored, and her blouse was crisp and lint-free. First impressions were important, and she wanted to succeed on her first day, however far down the chain of command she was.

"Are you done?" came an impatient voice. "I need a shower!"

Chell gave herself a final glance, then opened the door. Her roommate stood on the other side of it, wearing her pyjamas and an irate expression. Her luminous red hair hung in untamed curls around her porcelain face.

"I'm done," Chell said with a quick smile.

"You took ages!"

"It's my first day, Em. I need to get everything right."

Emma grumbled unintelligibly, shuffling past her into the bathroom.

Chell smiled to herself as she got the door shut in her face. "You're such a morning person!"

"Stop being so perky!" Emma called back.

Laughing, Chell started down the stairs in search of food.

"Goo luk!" Emma shouted around a mouthful of toothbrush.

Chell grinned and thanked her.

She and Emma lived in a tiny house in Ishpeming Township, the closest residential area to Aperture. A vast majority of its citizens were employees, and Chell knew how lucky she was to find a place to live, as properties got snapped up quickly. Their house was in West Ishpeming, an area separate enough from the main town to warrant its own name. Her father's house was not far, in the town itself, although she rarely went back there now she'd moved out, especially since he was often not there.

Despite living in the closest residential area to Aperture, Chell still had a fairly lengthy drive to the laboratories. The place took up a huge amount of space, it was true, but most of it was underground in the salt mine, its surface buildings far out in the middle of the countryside. As she drove, she reflected on everything she knew of her job description so far. She would answer the phone, type up letters, send emails and be generally supportive to Marlene. It wasn't particularly challenging, but she was anxious anyway. First day nerves were to be expected. It didn't help that she didn't particularly _want_ to work there. She was putting her career ideas on hold in order to figure out what was going on with her dad. Even though she didn't yet have a clear idea of what she wanted to do with her life, she _did_ know that it had nothing to do with Aperture Science.

Security let her through the perimeter gate when she showed them Marlene's letter, and she managed to find a parking space, albeit one a long distance from the door. The main parking lot was vast, and full enough to suggest that it was only just big enough. There were others, she knew, for the departments that were further away from main reception, but she didn't know exactly where they were, and they couldn't be seen from the main lot. She wasn't even sure how many entrances Aperture had. It looked bizarre on first glance, a huge parking lot for a relatively small building. If a visitor wasn't aware that 99% of Aperture Laboratories was situated underground, they would be understandably confused by the amount of vehicles parked.

She walked the dry asphalt of the parking lot, winding her way through the cars in the shortest route to the entrance. A smiling young woman greeted her at the reception desk. A quick phone call to Marlene confirmed who she was, and Chell soon found herself signing non-disclosure documents before being issued with her own card key. She took the elevator down, reminiscing about the number of times she'd made the same journey as a child. But for her interview, she hadn't been back in years, not since her dad had deemed her old enough not to need after-school supervision.

Marlene was waiting for her at the bottom. Chell had only met her once, when she'd come in for her interview. She was a pleasant enough woman, but she had a cold edge to her, and she never gave away anything of herself. Chell guessed she was nearing forty, her dark hair cut short in a neat, severe bob, her pale complexion a sure sign of the work hours she put in. Aperture employees rarely saw sunlight during the week.

"Good morning," Marlene greeted her, jumping straight into her introductory speech. "You'll only be doing twenty-five hours a week, so I'm only going to go over what you need to know. It's very unlikely that you'll have to cover me, I'm hardly ever sick."

"What about vacations?" Chell asked.

Marlene looked at her blankly. "What about them?"

Chell felt the pause hang between them and decided to let the subject drop before it got even more awkward. "O...kay. Do I have many duties?"

Marlene began leading her through the sterile, grey corridors, continuing her talk as they went. "Well, certainly not as many as I do!" She laughed, but it had a false ring to it. "I've written you a list. Your predecessor should have done it before he left, but he didn't bother. I'll run through everything today, though."

The morning dragged its heels. Marlene explained every tiny detail of every single duty. For some things it was helpful, but for most it was irritating and unnecessary. Chell was an intelligent young woman, she made the connections and understood what was being asked of her.

By midday she was being shown the file room, getting ready to tear her hair out as Marlene opened drawers to explain the filing system. It was actually one she was already familiar with: the alphabet.

"Every employee has a file here," Marlene was saying. "You'll have one too. They contain performance reviews, necessary medical records, copies of qualifications. Anything we need to keep hold of. Some of the letters are missing off the front of the drawers, though. We used to have one drawer per letter, but that wasn't very effective, since there were whole drawers standing empty. X, for example. X is now in with W, Y and Z."

Chell nodded mechanically, feeling her eyes glaze over.

"Q, we moved into R."

Marlene pulled out the R drawer so Chell could see where the Q divider, with a grand total of two names, was placed at the start of the more populated R. She nodded politely to show her understanding, mentally calculating how long it was until lunch time. As Marlene pushed the drawer back in, Chell caught sight of a file labelled RATTMANN, DOUGLAS.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. Despite the fact that she thought about it often, her memories from Bring Your Daughter To Work Day had grown hazy over time. However, she couldn't remember anything about Doug Rattmann that suggested he would have actually chosen to come back to Aperture. Particularly after what they'd both witnessed on that day, and several weeks before it when the British man had vanished.

 _But_ I _chose to come back_ , she reflected inwardly. _Granted, that's mostly because of Dad, but still…_

Perhaps Aperture had made a newly-qualified Doug an offer he couldn't refuse. Or perhaps he remembered just as well as she did, and wanted to know the truth.

Unwittingly, she let out a soft, thoughtful noise.

"What was that?" Marlene asked her at once.

"Nothing," Chell shot back. "I've got it."

Marlene arched a well-maintained eyebrow. "Are you sure? Because I know that all of this can be overwhelming, and–"

"I'm not overwhelmed," Chell interrupted against her better judgement. "Really. I've got it."

The older woman looked at her with open scepticism. "Well, okay. But I don't want you bugging me with questions all the time, I'll have my own work to do."

"I understand," Chell assured her, smiling diplomatically.

Marlene nodded huffily and continued her tour, while Chell once again turned her thoughts to her forthcoming break.

* * *

Chell's first week passed uneventfully, most of her time taken up with learning everything she needed to know. She saw her father on a couple of occasions, but barely had time to speak to him. She knew he wasn't overjoyed at the thought of her being there, and his stern demeanour ensured that she didn't forget, even when they just caught glimpses of each other in the corridors. The second week was much the same as the first, with improvements on the amount of knowledge she retained. In the third week, the internal phone lines went down, causing immediate chaos, and a level of panic that Chell thought disproportionate.

Within five minutes of the problem being reported, a tall, balding man hurtled up to her desk, demanding to see Lazarus Grey. After she'd reminded him that Marlene dealt with Mr. Grey's schedule, he hurried away as quickly as he'd come. Bewildered, Chell wandered to the door through to Marlene's office. The man was practically shouting at her, his hands blocking her paperwork as he leaned over her desk.

"You don't understand!" he was saying. "I need to see him now! If the phones are out then that means the red phone is out too! Ugh, you don't even know what I'm talking about, do you?"

"We're on the case, Dr. Stevens," Marlene soothed. "Bear with me."

She rose to her feet and approached Chell's observation point.

"Chell, where the hell is Bob? I thought he knew to come up here in an emergency."

"I sent him to Image Formatting about twenty minutes ago," Chell reported. "They had a server problem. He's probably still there."

Marlene considered for a moment, one manicured finger pressed against her pursed lips. "Do you know where Image Formatting is?" she asked at last.

Chell mentally called up the layout of the various floors that she'd been continually studying since she started. "Yes, I think so."

"Then you'd better get down there. Now! Run!"

Chell nodded and darted away, neatly weaving her way through the scientists traversing the corridors. The elevator ride was the easiest part of her journey, giving her time to catch her breath. Even when she was on the right floor, the department she needed was a good ten minutes' walk away. She took off as fast as her heeled shoes would allow, idly wondering why Marlene couldn't just send Bob an email. She didn't know what the big emergency was, but she knew better than to walk if she was told to run.

Five minutes later she slowed, pausing to get her breath back before boldly walking through the open office door. It was a small department of five people, all of whom looked up and stared at her. She started to wish she didn't look quite so dishevelled. She'd only been doing what she was told, but it made her feel unprofessional.

"Oh," she said, still a little breathless. "I was hoping Bob was here."

"He left," one of the scientists said gruffly.

"I can see that," she snapped. "Where did he go?"

"I don't know," he said with a shrug. "I'd say call him, but the phones are down."

Chell fought against her instinct to glower. "I know," she said slowly. "That's why I need Bob. Does anyone know where he is?"

Silence floated back at her. Then, with obvious reluctance, a quiet voice from the back of the room said, "Accounts."

Chell turned to smile at the man who seemed to be the only helpful person in the room. Her smile faltered distractedly as she was hit with a sudden wave of familiarity. A face she recognised was looking calmly at her: Doug Rattmann. The recognition wasn't mutual, she could see that immediately. He was studying her with mild curiosity, but not a huge amount of interest. Clearly, he just wanted to get back to his work.

"He mentioned going to Accounts," he clarified, after Chell had stared at him for a long moment.

"How d'you know that?" the man sitting next to him asked, frowning as he reached for his coffee cup.

"I listen," Doug replied acerbically.

The man chuckled, apparently used to his dry, blunt tones.

"Oh," Chell spoke up, finding words at last. "Thanks." She tried to recall just where the Accounts department was, but drew a blank. She was realising more and more that she didn't know her way around as well as she'd thought. "Is it far?" she asked.

"About five or ten minutes." He was looking at her properly now, his gaze steady and appraising, holding a touch more interest but still no recognition.

"Right...in which direction?"

The scientist she'd first spoken to laughed. "Just take her there, Doug, we'll never get our phone lines back up if she gets lost."

With only a trace amount of annoyance, Doug stood up, drained the remnants of his coffee, then made his way to the front of the room.

Chell bit her lip, embarrassed. "I'm new," she muttered. She wondered if she could really still claim that after three weeks.

"You don't say," the scientist chuckled. His I.D. badge read Graham and ranked him as the one in charge. "So, are you the new Dominic?"

She nodded in confirmation. "Yes, I'm Marlene's assistant."

"What's your name?"

Unable to help shooting Doug a sidelong glance, she answered, "Chell."

His answering gaze was wide-eyed and startled, and she gave a tiny shrug, smiling ruefully.

"Nice to meet you," Graham said, apparently not noticing the short exchange. "Go with Doug, he'll take you to Accounts."

"Thank you."

She followed Doug out of the room, trotting to catch up with him in the corridor. When they were a fair distance from the office, he turned to her.

"I…didn't recognise you," he declared.

"That's okay. Why would you?" she said kindly. "We haven't seen each other in ten years." She gave a shrug. "Plus I'm taller than I used to be."

"You recognised me," he stated, sounding mildly annoyed.

"Yes, well, you've not changed that much. You're even wearing the same coat!"

He didn't smile, but his expression softened a touch. There was a hint of uncertainty in it too. Chell wasn't sure what it meant, but the situation was certainly odd. They knew each other, yet were strangers.

"What on Earth possessed you to come back here?" he asked. His tone confirmed that he remembered everything they'd seen as kids as well as she did.

She exhaled, considering what to say. She wondered if she could trust him with her reasons. Her instinct was telling her she could, but the rational part of her was cautious.

"That's...a complicated question," she admitted eventually. "For when I'm not in a rush."

His face began to regain its stoic expression, and she hurriedly sent him a smile.

"Another time?" she added, hoping her words came across in the friendly, encouraging way that she meant them.

"Sure," he said, and Chell couldn't decipher if he was serious or simply giving her a diplomatic answer.

Pushing her doubt aside, she asked, "What made _you_ decide to come back here?"

"That's complicated too," Doug shot back. After an awkward pause, he went on, "Besides, it's not fair of you to ask without answering first."

"Okay, you have a point," Chell conceded, shrugging. "I really would like to talk about this, but if I don't get Bob fixing the phones, Marlene will have my head on a spike. And I kind of like it where it is."

"Understandable," he said dryly.

" _I_ thought so."

"I'm sure as hell not running, though. Bob will get there when he gets there."

She huffed, but said nothing. She was still grateful that he was guiding her. _What a turnaround_ , she thought, amused.

Doug gave a soft chuckle. Chell sensed it was at her expense, but she was too keen to get a smile out of him to mind.

"What?" she demanded.

"I was trying to see if the old you is still in there, and she just made herself known. You still find me annoying."

Chell glanced at him, observing the benevolent smirk that signified his own amusement.

"You say that like it has nothing to do with you," she commented calmly, refusing to be ruffled.

He laughed again, a more open and genuine sound than before, and she grinned.

"Touché," he said.

She sobered, adding thoughtfully, "She's still in here. If I'd never been her, I wouldn't be here now."

"What do you mean?"

"I'll explain another time, but...I was young when I was here before, but I still noticed things. Things that happened around here that caught my interest."

He met her gaze, but she wasn't sure what he was thinking. His mismatched eyes and his indifferent expression gave nothing away. Despite recognising him, Chell knew the older Doug would take some getting used to. Although he'd seemed old from her ten-year-old perspective, now that they'd met again she could appreciate just how much of a child he'd been himself. As an adult he was a little paler, he had shadows beneath his eyes that hadn't been there before. His dark hair was shorter and tidier, his posture a little less hunched, and he wasn't quite as thin. The angles of his face had sharpened over the years as he lost the childish roundedness, and held only a bare trace of the arrogance they once had shown. His nose was still a little on the large side, but he no longer looked awkward in his own skin, not only due to his being older, but because he was more confident too. He'd grown more comfortable with himself, although not as much as she would have expected. Even in the short time she'd been with him, Chell could see how he'd replaced his teenage awkwardness with blunt, dry wit and a general aura of obstinacy, but there was a different kind of uneasiness about him that she couldn't figure out.

Doug's gaze shifted, darting along the corridor ahead and the space behind. He was suddenly edgy, quite unlike the boy she remembered.

"We definitely need to talk about this," he said, his voice low. "But not here. I'll...let you know. Okay?"

Puzzled, she nodded. "Okay."

"I need to get back," he went on. "Keep going straight. Accounts is the third door on the left."

Chell glanced down the corridor ahead. "Right. Thanks for your help."

"Guess we're square now," Doug added with a hesitant smile.

"I guess so," she agreed. "About time."

He nodded, letting out a brief chuckle. "See you around."

"Sure."

She watched him walk back the way they'd come for a moment, then continued on her way, the wounded phone lines now pushed to the back of her thoughts.

* * *

It was almost a whole week before she heard from Doug again. She was beginning to wonder if he'd really meant what he'd said, hopeful that other things had simply prevented him from contacting her rather than him deciding that he didn't want to talk after all. But then she received an instant message through the company's intranet, saying simply: 'What time do you finish work? - D.R.'

Chell smiled to herself in relief, glad that maybe she had an ally after all. Quickly, she typed back: 'At 3pm. - C.'

She continued composing the email she was working on. Five minutes later, she received: 'Meet you in the parking lot. - D.R.'

She wrote back a confirmation, then returned to her work. The afternoon passed at a reasonable rate, and by ten minutes past three, she was outside. Doug was already there, leaning against a car several rows away, his pensive expression looking a little at odds with the smart black suit he wore. Aperture expected all its employees to look smart, even when the scientists hid the majority of their outfits under their lab coats. A few years previously, Black Mesa had launched an office wear policy, so Lazarus Grey had immediately done the same, not wanting to be outdone by Aperture's main rival on any point, even the most trivial.

Doug straightened up as she approached, greeting her with a small, hesitant smile. She smiled back warmly, trying put him at ease. She didn't recall that it had been difficult to do when he was a teenager, but people changed.

"Hi," she said brightly, tucking windswept strands of hair behind her ear. "Sorry I'm late. I always forget how long it takes to get back up here from the office."

"That's okay," Doug replied levelly. "Do you want to sit in the car? It's warmer, and I have coffee in a Thermos."

"Well, if there's coffee, how can I refuse?"

His smile widened for the first time, and he opened his car door.

Chell walked around to the other side, slipping into the seat and shutting the breeze outside. Doug's car was looking a little worse for wear. Chell was no vehicle enthusiast, but even she could tell that the model was old and could probably have done with being upgraded several years ago. Perhaps it held sentimental value.

Doug poured coffee into the small lid cups from the Thermos, setting them on the dashboard to cool down. The windscreen clouded with two identical patches of condensation, like speech bubbles in a comic book.

"So," said Chell, breaking the awkward silence, "what have you been doing with yourself for the past ten years?"

Unexpectedly, Doug laughed. It was a short, bitter sound. "Mostly working," he commented at length.

"Here?"

"I've been here for four years now."

Chell nodded encouragingly. "What's that like?"

He took a moment to think, staring out the windscreen at the back of the red McLaren parked in the space in front. "More interesting than I'd initially thought, actually. Although… What clearance level are you?"

"Three," she answered, wrinkling her nose. "Pathetic, right?"

"Not at all. But I'm afraid I can't really explain _why_ I find the job interesting."

"I understand," Chell said with a shrug. "I hear that all the time. Security is nuts here. Even Marlene only has a clearance level of seven, and she's Lazarus's assistant. How high does it go, anyway?"

"I'm not sure," Doug replied thoughtfully. "The highest I've seen is twelve."

"Same. Lazarus has a kind of free-rein pass card. I'm pretty sure he only created it to make himself look more important. Pompous ass."

Doug smirked at her casual lack of respect. "That's our boss you're slandering."

Chell turned towards him, poker-faced. "And? He _is_ a pompous ass."

He nodded, conceding the point. "That is true."

A more comfortable silence fell, and Chell reached for her coffee, blowing the surface to cool it further. Doug followed her example. He took a sip and grimaced.

"Ack. That's terrible! Sorry."

Chell glanced at him sceptically. She'd never yet met a coffee she didn't like. But, mindful of his words, she cautiously drank a tiny amount. It wasn't the nicest thing she'd ever tasted, but it wasn't the worst.

"It's okay," she said valiantly.

"No, it's not, you're just being polite."

"Does that really sound like me?"

Doug hesitated, seemingly aware that whatever he said could potentially dig a hole to China.

Taking pity on him, Chell went on, "Is it caffeinated?"

"Of course."

"Then it'll do."

He gave a small, amused huff.

As they continued drinking their mediocre coffee, Chell attempted to turn the conversation towards discovering why Doug had chosen to work at Aperture, but getting answers out of him was tedious. In the end, she told him her own reasons for being there, in the hope that it would prompt him to share more. It didn't make him any more accommodating, but he did confirm that he too wanted to figure out more of what the company was really up to, and he too was concerned that Aperture's eccentricities were hiding something more sinister. That was all Chell really needed to know for the time being. She knew she had an ally, and that was more than enough to boost her spirits.

She told him as much, and he gave a small, pleased smile in return, but she was starting to feel that there was a lot he wasn't telling her, and she couldn't help but wonder why. Still, she didn't want to push him too hard. He was the first person she'd come across that she felt could really become a friend, and she didn't want to jeopardise that before it even got off the ground.

At ten minutes to four, Doug declared that he needed to head back, and they parted ways amicably, promising to tell each other anything they found out. Chell knew that they'd have to bend the security clearance rules for that, but she instructed Doug to tell her only what she needed to know. She didn't want to get him in any unnecessary trouble.

On the drive back to Ishpeming, she mulled over everything she'd learned, thinking of ways to discover more without being fired. She also made herself a silent promise that she'd figure out what was bothering Doug. Perhaps it was simply ten years of maturity, but he didn't seem exactly the same person she'd known. She vowed to find out if there was anything wrong, or whether it was just natural change. She hoped it was the latter, but she was all too aware that her dad was a prime example of how working at Aperture Laboratories could alter a person.

* * *

 **A/N:** If you think you recognise the name Lazarus Grey, you're probably right. It crops up in Lab Rat on the test subject list. Marlene is all mine, however. Lucky me.

Ishpeming is a real place, by the way, but I know pretty much nothing about it. I was just searching Google maps for potential Aperture locations, so apologies to anyone who is familiar with it and doesn't recognise the version in this story!


	5. Developments

**A/N:** Another short one, guys. Checking in with Doug and Chell before things start to get really serious at Aperture.

* * *

 **2004.  
Developments. **

It took several months for Doug to really start trusting Chell, and to finally accept that she wasn't going anywhere. He was wary, having lost friends before, but she stuck to him like a bodyguard, offering a kind word here and a listening ear there. She was a generally kind person, although the sweet edge was sharpened by her blunt, sassy wit. As a pro in sarcasm himself, Doug appreciated her sense of humour.

Getting to know her was like meeting an entirely new person, as aside from her bright mind and curiosity, he recognised very little from the ten-year-old he'd known before. She even looked completely different, although her steely grey eyes hadn't changed. She'd grown into a striking young woman, he had to admit. Her athletic figure, milky-coffee skin, dark hair, and full lips drew her a lot of attention. Most it seemed to annoy her, barring one or two fortunate gentlemen. During their chats, she would tell him about her dates, usually how disappointing they were. Doug tried to be sympathetic, but there hadn't been anyone for him since Lucy, and he felt out of the loop when it came to what constituted a good date.

Chell was surprisingly frank about herself and her dates, but after picking up on his awkwardness she curbed the amount of information she shared. Their relationship wasn't _that_ close, and there were details that Doug preferred not to hear. He didn't really mind it, though. Chell was completely comfortable with herself, and so could afford to speak plainly. It was something Doug couldn't relate to, but he admired it in her, and wondered what it was like to be so accepting of oneself.

She was his total opposite in the work place too. He liked to keep himself to himself, keep his head down and get on with things, and it never really bothered him if people didn't like him. (He was used to people giving him a wide berth by now.) Chell, on the other hand, wanted to be liked, and strove to be friendly to everyone, despite what her personal feelings might be. Although, she had admitted to him in private that she mostly did it to make her job easier, and really she'd prefer to be more honest. He could see her point of view, though. She needed to be approachable, as the majority of complaints and queries went through her, but on occasion, he'd passed her office door and seen her talking to people with a rather fixed smile on her face.

Occasionally, when they met up for lunch or a cup of coffee, they would report something they'd overheard, but most of the time they just talked. Doug eventually told her about his schizophrenia, something he'd been dreading doing in case it pushed her away, but she took it in her stride, listening patiently to his story. He wanted to tell her himself before she read it in his file. Not that he thought she'd go snooping, but it was a plausible assumption. The brief look of surprise on her face, however, dispelled that fear. He told her everything, from his diagnosis a few months after Bring Your Daughter To Work Day, to Lucy leaving him, to his failure to hold down a job, to eventually finding a place for himself at the very facility he'd initially wanted to avoid. He told her how the anti-psychotics he took kept most things under control, but how he still had one or two quirks, and how paranoia still occasionally haunted him on a base level.

Chell listened without interrupting, her expression showing brief traces of sympathy and curiosity. Then she thanked him for telling her and asked him what the weather was going to do at the weekend. He felt a wave of relief at her words. More and more, he was finding people that didn't define him by his condition, and every time it took him by grateful surprise.

In return, Chell confided in him about her concerns regarding her father, Simon, and how he was practically blanking her every time she saw him. Doug had seen him a couple of times himself, and the man had remained silent. He had always assumed that Simon didn't recognise him. Chell poured out the story of how she'd tried to go and see him at the only lab she had clearance access to, but how he'd almost shut the door in her face in his eagerness to get rid of her. In her hurt and anger, she'd avoided him for weeks.

Doug didn't have any helpful advice, but he tried to be supportive. Chell seemed to appreciate it. At least, up until the moment she realised she only had three minutes to get back to her office, and she trotted off as fast as she could in her high heels. (Which was considerably faster than it had been when she'd first started at Aperture.)

Seven months into their friendship, Doug got promoted to ASHPD Development, working on a modern version of the old Quantum Tunneller that had been used in tests back in the 60s and 70s. Unlike most of the other departments, which collected several scientists in one large lab, the production of the Aperture Science Handheld Portal Device was to be kept highly confidential from the vast majority of people. Doug would be working largely on his own until he needed help. He was pleasantly surprised to get the job, as his application had been one among hundreds. Lazarus Grey had liked his ideas, and had approved of the rough blueprints he'd drawn up for the design of the thing. His clearance had shot up to level ten, which unfortunately meant that he couldn't even tell Chell which department he was working in.

She understood, but he could see that she was mildly annoyed by the development. Bizarrely, due to the system that tracked where every I.D. card was swiped, she knew the location of his new lab, just not what went on in it. It was irrelevant anyway, since her clearance didn't let her anywhere near it.

As time passed, Doug found working on the portal gun strangely rewarding. It was constantly challenging him and it rarely went well, but he was enjoying it nonetheless, and Lazarus was pleased with his progress.

He made friends with a scientist who worked several doors down the corridor, in a lab labelled Core Shell Development. It was the kind of surprisingly-vague, confusion-inducing name that Aperture liked to use for both its products and departments. The man introduced himself as Dr. Henry Stevens and cheerfully welcomed Doug to corridor 31-B with a firm handshake. Doug noted that his I.D. card read clearance level eleven, and he made a mental note to try and find out what Henry was working on when they knew each other better. He didn't think it would be too difficult, as the tall, balding man seemed to have a healthy disregard for the secrecy policy when it suited him.

Doug reported that back to Chell, who in turn told him that she'd once again tried to speak to her father, and once again had been hurried on her way. He listened with a growing frown, hoping for Chell's sake that Simon wasn't up to anything unethical. Somehow, he doubted it though. The thought left a heavy, cold feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Chell had encouraged him to reconcile with his family. After a few weeks of consideration, he'd taken her advice, now calling his parents and Julie a few times a month instead of just at Thanksgiving, as it had been for the past several years. The development had made them all happier, and Doug was hugely grateful for the push Chell had given him. It made him feel guilty, though, that her relationship with her own father seemed to be going downhill. He hoped that Simon wouldn't let her down, but Doug realised one day that he didn't trust him in that department. Chell put up a brave front, but Doug knew how vulnerable she was underneath it all, and how much Simon's attitude upset her. She was stubborn, though, and he knew she wouldn't give up until she had answers. With that, he could support her, and he would do for as long as she needed him.


	6. The GLaDOS Project

**A/N:** Another shorter chapter before Chell and Doug really start digging into Aperture's secrets.

Hope everyone is enjoying this so far. I know it's taking a little while to get going, so thank you if you're bearing with me :)

* * *

 **2005.  
The GLaDOS Project.**

Henry had fallen into the habit of barging uninvited into Doug's lab whenever the whim took him. He was a brash, confident man with a booming voice and a ready smile, (usually at his own jokes), and was, in almost every way, a complete opposite of Doug. Doug wasn't really sure why they got on as well as they did, since science was the only thing they had in common, but he found he did rather enjoy the older man's company. Henry was fiercely proud and enthusiastic about his work, a trait that was common among Aperture scientists. Somehow, working with the flexible rules that the company endorsed brought most employees' enthusiasm to the fore. The fact that they were able to take their projects to further levels than any other facility would have allowed often went to the scientists' heads. Their ideas became more wildly creative and ambitious.

"Doug!" Henry bellowed, marching through the door, brandishing a screwdriver and two pieces of curved, grey metal.

Doug inwardly flinched. He never enjoyed the jarring sensation of having his peace and quiet ruptured, although he tried to hide that from Henry. He suspected he wasn't always successful. Lowering his own tools, Doug straightened up at the workbench.

"Morning, Henry."

"I could use a hand with this if you have a minute," Henry said, holding up the bits of metal.

Doug never passed up an opportunity to examine what other people were working on. "Sure."

Henry brought the pieces under the beam of the overhead lamp that hung over the bench. Doug leaned in to look.

"What _is_ that?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Core shell," Henry answered, as if it was obvious. "I need to line up these holes here so I can get the screws in, but they keep slipping. Hold them still, will you?"

Doug complied and Henry set about screwing the plates together.

"Core for what?" Doug pressed on, still maintaining a casual tone.

"GLaDOS," Henry muttered, turning the screwdriver.

At first, Doug thought it was a name: Gladys. But there was something in the pronunciation that made him change his mind. Before he could figure out how to proceed, however, Henry was finished, whipping the curved metal out of his hands.

"Thanks!" Henry said brightly, heading for the door.

"Any time," Doug mumbled in reply, annoyed to have missed an opportunity to find out more.

As he went back to his own work, he reconsidered. There was a chance that pushing for more information too much at once might cause Henry to clam up completely. Although he couldn't imagine Henry clamming up about _anything_ , he didn't want to assume too much.

Later, he told Chell what had happened as they stood outside smoking herbal cigarettes. Doug had been concerned about their conversations being overheard inside, so they had both decided to fake a smoking habit so they could talk outside.

"I think it worked out okay," Chell decided, flicking ash on the ground. "He might have gotten suspicious, like you said. You can ask him next time."

"Yes," he agreed, reluctantly. "I can't help feeling like I passed up an opportunity, though."

"Don't. If he interrupts you as often as you said, there'll be another time."

He nodded at her wise words, exhaling a stream of smoke that the breeze immediately snatched away. He could see why people enjoyed their cigarette breaks. It was a chance to see daylight for a while, to take a few minutes out from the stress of work.

Chell had her eyes closed, a faint smile on her face as she turned in the direction of the sun. It picked out the sparse gold highlights in her dark hair, and her tanned skin seemed to glow under the light as she basked like a contented cat. The cigarette smouldered gently in her hand. She hated the taste, he knew, so she tried to let it burn on its own as much as possible.

Suddenly she stiffened, turning to shoot him a wide-eyed glance, her unusual grey eyes full of unease. "I've just had a thought," she said, sounding concerned.

"What?"

"My dad...when I used to overhear him on the phone, when he thought I wasn't listening, he'd talk about someone that I thought was a co-worker called Gladys."

Doug tensed, pressing his lips tightly together in a grim line as he realised where she was going with her speech.

"What if it wasn't a co-worker at all, but a project he was working on?" she finished.

"It seems likely," he admitted. "Can you run a search for employees named Gladys? You know, just to make sure."

Chell furrowed her brow, staring off into the middle distance as she considered. "I... _could_. But I'd have to think of a good reason why I was doing it. Marlene has a record of everything I do on my computer. Since Black Mesa got a hold of blueprints for some kind of gravity gun thing, Lazarus has been cracking down on any suspicious activity."

Doug quirked an eyebrow in surprise. "Black Mesa stole the gravity gun idea? I wondered why production got stopped. Henry said... Well, it's not important. He talks a lot."

Chell gave him a quick smile. "So I hear. So does Hannah, the woman I've been meeting for lunch. She works in the recycling department."

"We have a recycling department?" Doug asked, bemused.

"Apparently. Something to do with taking failed experiments and turning them into other, workable things. Yesterday she was going on and on about some kind of toxic ooze waste product that she didn't know what to do with. Kind of put me off my sandwich, to be honest."

Doug glanced at her in alarm. "We have that kind of thing sitting around?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, I'm not happy about it either. I'm going to get updates from Hannah at lunchtime. Speaking of, if I don't get back downstairs now, Marlene won't _give_ me a lunchtime." She dropped her cigarette to the concrete, grinding it under the toe of her shoe. "See you later."

"See you."

Doug stayed put for a few more minutes, finishing his cigarette. He had much more leeway with how he spent his time than Chell. It was looking increasingly likely that GLaDOS was the major project that had been ongoing for years, something that both Henry and Chell's dad were involved in. He made a mental list of departments involved: Robotics, Artificial Intelligence, Core Shell Development, plus whatever it was that Lazarus Grey specialised in. And most likely, many more that they didn't know about.

One thing was becoming clear. The only way they would find out for sure, if Simon continued to be tight-lipped, would be if Doug found his way onto the project. Maybe if his work on the portal gun went smoothly, he'd get promoted elsewhere. If he could persuade Henry to put in a good word for him...

He inwardly shuddered at the thought of purposely working on a project that he was sure he wouldn't approve of. He was also sure that gaining any higher clearance level would make it harder to talk to Chell. Aperture hadn't yet gone as far as dictating who their employees could and couldn't speak to while in work, but he wouldn't put it past them to try. There were one or two high-ranking scientists who frowned on those who were friendly with people of lower clearance levels. All it would take would be for one of them to make a convincing case to Lazarus Grey.

Concerned, and trying not to let it show, Doug stubbed out his cigarette and once more descended to the relative safety of his lab.


	7. Unpleasant Discoveries

**A/N:** Happy Halloween, folks! Hope you're having a fun time. Please enjoy this chapter that has absolutely nothing to do with anything remotely Halloweenish :D

Thank you to mecaka for the lovely review. I hope you enjoy the rest of the story too :D

* * *

 **2006.  
Unpleasant Discoveries. **

As time passed, Chell found she didn't mind the extra message-delivering duties she found herself doing every time the internal server went down, (which was more often than the company liked to admit). She enjoyed getting out of her tiny office, finding people other than Marlene and Lazarus to talk to. She didn't mind when she got sidelined on her way out, either. Aperture Laboratories wasn't her favourite place on Earth, but she felt strangely comfortable there. Being so far underground felt almost...safe. And that in itself made her feel uneasy, making the whole thing confusing and unhelpful.

Now that she'd been working for the company for nearly three years, her clearance had been increased. It was still one of the lowest clearance levels available to Aperture employees, but it gave her a degree more freedom than she'd had. A few more unlocked doors than there had been before.

Happy with her new status, she pulled up the building's layout on her computer screen, checking where she could go that she hadn't been able to before, trying to commit a few routes to memory. Like she did every day, she then checked the personnel log, seeing who was at lunch. It was a perk of her job that she could see when people she wanted to avoid were safely shut away in their offices.

A little while later, she ventured beyond the pathways she was used to for the first time. There, she had a huge shock. Instead of more of the bland, repetitive corridors she walked every day, she found that the facility became much more industrial. On occasion, the corridors were nothing more than metal walkways covering dizzying gaps of undeveloped space. Between areas, it was cheaper to build gantries rather than full corridors. Chell had never had a problem with heights, but stepping out onto the crisscrossed metal made her stomach flip unpleasantly. She was grateful to swipe her card and duck through automated doors into a corridor with actual walls. The paint was glossy and cheap, the carpet tiles thin and poorly-laid, but the floor didn't tremble when she walked on it, and she could pretend that she worked in a normal building, not in a fortress in a salt mine, miles and miles beneath the surface.

Chell hadn't left her office simply to explore. She'd decided to take on a small mission, something that her previous clearance level hadn't allowed her to do. From the maps she'd looked at before she'd left, she had a rough notion of where she was going.

Five more minutes of walking led her to a corridor of unassuming doors, and she kept going, reading the signs as she went. Most of them referred to things she wasn't allowed to know about, and the door she was looking for was no exception, labelled ASHPD Development. Raising a quizzical brow as she read it, she double-checked the number, then rapped smartly on the door and waited. After a moment, it opened just wide enough to allow Doug to stick his head out. He looked tired, more than a little puzzled to see her there, and he stared at her for a beat, clearly having trouble placing her in that particular setting.

"Hello," she greeted brightly. "What's an Ashpod?"

"ASHPD," he corrected automatically, still glancing at her with a slight air of confusion. "And I can't tell you that. As you know."

She shrugged, acknowledging his words. She had no defence there. It was just that being surrounded by such bizarre projects, it was sometimes difficult _not_ to ask. Aperture had a unique way of naming and labelling things. Chell suspected it stemmed from their desire not to get sued when they borrowed ideas from other people.

Doug visibly gathered his wits about him, looking at her with a touch more clarity. "What are you doing down here?"

"New security clearance," she explained, showing him her upgraded card.

He scanned it with a quick glance. "I still can't let you in here," he told her.

"Oh, I know that," she assured him. "I have clearance to be in the corridor, but not to go into any of the rooms leading off it."

Doug gave a humourless little chuckle. "Another astounding piece of Aperture logic. Nice job, Uncle Johnson."

Chell shot him a baffled frown. "Sorry, what?"

"Did you never hear about that? Apparently during the 60s when the company was investigated, Cave Johnson ordered all the employees to call him Uncle Johnson, to give the place a 'family atmosphere'." His tone was laced with disdain, his nose wrinkled.

"You're kidding."

"No," he answered at once. "Why would I make something like that up?"

"I don't know." She shrugged. "Fun?"

"Scientists don't believe in fun."

She gave a snort of laughter and he smiled, losing a little of his weary look. He opened the door enough to join her in the corridor, pulling it closed behind him after checking that he had his swipe card with him.

"I asked Marlene about the logic," Chell told him. "She says it's in case there are deliveries that need to be made down here. They don't want couriers or runners wandering around."

"Deliveries. Right," he scoffed cynically. "Is that even in your job description?"

"Technically no," she said with another shrug, "but I've always felt that I'm expected to be flexible."

Not seeming at all surprised, Doug shook his head, dislodging a pen that he'd stuck behind his ear. He made a grab for it and missed, knocking it off course to slip neatly in the breast pocket of his lab coat. They both laughed.

"You couldn't do that again if you tried!" Chell said.

"Oh ye of little faith," he muttered tauntingly." Are you making a delivery, then?"

"Kind of. I checked on the system, you've been holed up in here for six hours straight. I figured you could use this." Grinning, she moved the paper coffee cup she'd been hiding into view.

Doug's eyes lit up. "You," he said emphatically, reaching for it, "are a saint."

"Me or the coffee?" Chell quipped.

"I'll get back to you on that."

She sniggered, watching him cautiously sniff the lid. He always did it with take-out cups. It was something he just couldn't help, despite his medication.

"Is there sugar in this?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered patiently. "Two sachets."

He removed the lid and took a sip, letting out a grateful sigh. "Thanks, I could really use the boost."

"I know," she said with a shrug, smiling.

"How?"

"You think you're the only one here with a caffeine addiction? Trust me, I understand."

He smirked, lifting his chin and fixing her with a superior look. "I'm not addicted. I can quit any time I want."

"Sure you can," Chell agreed with over the top cheeriness, patting him on the shoulder patronisingly.

He narrowed his eyes at her, and she laughed.

A door further down the corridor opened, and a smartly-dressed, balding man stepped out, his lab coat hanging open to show off his suit. After a moment, Chell recognised him as the scientist who'd cryptically yelled at Marlene about the red phone when the internal lines had gone down several years ago.

"Doug!" he called, heading their way. "Got a minute?"

"Uh, sure." He turned to Chell, the apology already visible on his face.

She held up her hands. "It's okay, I should get going if I'm going to find my way back without getting lost."

"How many times, Chell, print off the schematics before you set off somewhere new."

"And be accused of trying to steal them? No thanks, I'm good."

Doug sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. "One of these days you'll actually take my advice and I'll keel over from the shock."

"Don't be so dramatic," she scolded lightly. "I'll see you later."

"Good luck then," he said with a grin. "And thanks for the coffee."

She returned his smile. "You're welcome."

"Bye."

As she walked away, Chell heard the newcomer mutter, "Didn't know you'd gotten yourself a girlfriend, Doug. Good for you!"

"She's not my…I'm not…we're just friends."

"Sure you are. Can't say's I blame you. Great pair of–"

"Shut up, Henry."

"I was going to say eyes!"

Chell smothered a giggle, refusing to look back. The sound of her footsteps drowned out Doug's chivalrous defending comments, but she made a mental note to thank him later.

Getting lost was something she'd have been happy to be wrong about. Unfortunately, a left that should have been a right, (or vice versa), in a labyrinthine sprawl of near-identical corridors left her not only lost, but annoyed that she'd predicted it and done nothing to prevent it. A quick glance at the bare walls told her that she'd have a fair bit of backtracking to do before she even found a door she could knock on for help. Calling Marlene was out of the question, of course. There was no cell phone signal underground. If she hadn't noticed how dilapidated the corridor was getting, she could have ended up even further from her path.

She took another look around. She wasn't convinced that there had been anyone working in this particular part of the facility for quite some time. The carpet was dusty, she realised on closer inspection, her own footprints the only thing marring the pale grey dirt. She'd wandered into a vacant suite, too caught up in her own thoughts.

Retracing her steps, she pursued her own trail until the reduction in dust left her with no footprints to follow. Chell halted, biting her lip, trying to remember the path she'd taken. With far less certainty than she was comfortable with, she turned right and kept walking. She knocked on the nearest door she found. There was no answer, and a quick turn of the handle told her it was locked.

"Shoot," she murmured, convinced that she'd taken yet another wrong turn.

"Hello!" came a bright, cheerful voice, startling her into yelping. "Anything I can help you with there?"

Chell spun, confused, (and slightly concerned), that someone could sneak up on her in a deserted corridor. There was no one behind her. She pivoted in a clumsy circle, searching everywhere. Nothing.

She frowned. She didn't believe in ghosts, so how...

"Um...you, uh, you seem to be having a bit of trouble down there," said the voice. "I'm up here."

Chell tilted her head up, immediately spotting what looked like a dull metal ball attached to a rail in the ceiling. It looked down at her with a vibrant blue optic, set between a pair of eyelid-like handles. She stared, wide-eyed, all words escaping her. The ball seemed to blink a few times, narrowing its optic in a decidedly uncomfortable way.

"Are you all right?" it asked. "You're just...just staring at me...a lot. It's, um, somewhat unnerving, if I'm honest."

She smiled a little, mostly in bewilderment. The ball was surprisingly expressive, and its voice sounded so naturally human. Its lilting British accent was almost familiar, but she couldn't place it. Perhaps it was voiced by an actor that she'd heard elsewhere.

"Look," it went on, a touch of annoyance in its tone, "I don't want to be rude, but this staring thing has to stop, okay? It's...it's...it's starting to feel like you're judging me...about something. Don't know what, no idea what, but something. And, uh, I feel that that's unfair, because I'm just doing what I was told, all right?"

Chell shook herself out of her surprised stupor. "Um...right. Sorry. You just took me by surprise, is all. What...uh... _who_ are you exactly?"

The ball's optic widened, almost like a grin of sorts. "Name's Wheatley. I'm a personality core. It's my job to scout these corridors on watch."

"On watch for what?" she queried, scrutinising him. And he was a 'him' not an 'it', she decided. Despite appearances, he was too real to be an 'it'.

The core shifted from side to side, as if he was checking he was not overheard. When he spoke, it was in a stage whisper. Chell bit her tongue to keep from laughing.

"I've heard a rumour," he hissed. "Get this. There are robots that scream down here at night."

Chell wasn't sure what expression she was pulling, only that it seemed to make him 'nod' in apparent agreement.

"I know, I know. Hard to believe, but true. Allegedly. "

"Um...Wheatley, was it?"

"That's right."

"I'm Chell. That seems to be...a strange job to give a..."

"Personality core," he finished for her. "Yeah...yeah, it is. But nobody else was brave enough to do it. They gave me this job because they knew I could handle it. Before this I worked in engineering. Just, you know, doing admin. But it was really important. Before _that_ I did admin for the guy in charge of the neurotoxin release button. Big responsibility, that, let me tell you."

Chell frowned, seizing upon the word that filled her with a deep sense of unease. "Neurotoxin?"

"Yeah. You know, down near the old neurotoxin generator...in the, uh, the...thingy...department."

Playing along, she nodded. "Of course. Did they tell you what it's used for?"

"Errr no, not as such." His optic brightened suddenly. "But hey, gotta be important, right? I mean, there's no way they'd employ such a sophisticated piece of technology like me down there if it wasn't important."

"Um...no. I mean, you're probably right." She bit her lip anxiously, suddenly wishing she could get Doug's opinion on what she'd learned, hoping that it wasn't something he'd already known and just hadn't told her. Glancing back up at Wheatley, she wondered if she was looking at her father's work, and if cores like this one were the reason why he'd practically starting living at the facility. "Who built you?" she asked curiously, leaning back against the wall. The angle was starting to make her neck ache.

"I don't know actually," he replied matter-of-factly. "Gotta be honest, the early parts of my life are a bit of a blur. Do not have a clue what I got up to."

"Oh. That sounds...disconcerting."

"Tis a bit, yeah. I mean, I could have been doing something really important during that time, or, or, you know...yeah. Don't...don't actually know where I was going with that, sorry. Anyway, I _do_ know that I was probably very, very busy. Doing...you know, whatever. Definitely wasn't just sitting around gathering dust or zipping around willy nilly, or, or...are you all right, you look a bit peaky."

Chell's whole body had gone cold, a trickle of dread uncoiling in the pit of her stomach. She'd been listening with a placid smile on her face and had suddenly found herself taken aback by that strange phrase of his: 'willy nilly'. She'd heard it before. And the moment she remembered that, she remembered who she'd heard it from: the lanky British man who'd been called to a conference by the A.I. and Robotics divisions, who'd argued with her father, who'd been persuaded to return to the room, and who had then vanished.

With startling clarity, his long-ago words floated back to her. _'It's insane, mate!...it's a prototype piece of technology and you want to just...just throw someone's personality in there willy nilly…'_

"My god, Dad," she whispered, "what have you done?"

"What's that?" Wheatley asked.

"Nothing," Chell answered, trying to school her expression, trying not to think about that awkward, nervous employee from thirteen years ago. She wasn't sure what it all meant, and she didn't really want to think about it too hard. "I need to talk to Doug," she decided aloud.

"Who?"

"Wheatley, do you know the way back to corridor 31-B?"

The core rolled his optic. "Of course! Only got the layout of the whole facility at my disposal! Follow me."

He began to trundle along the rail he was attached to, going a reasonable pace so that Chell could keep up. Within five minutes she was back at the corridor she'd started at.

"Here you go," Wheatley announced proudly, rotating to beam down at her. "I can't take you any further, they didn't put a rail here. But you can find your way from here on."

"Yes. Thank you." Chell took a few steps forward, then stopped, turning to glance back at him. "Wheatley, could you just wait here for a minute? I want my friend to meet you, but I need to go and fetch him."

The core somehow managed to look pleased at her words and, again, Chell marvelled at the technology.

"Yup, no problem at all, I'll wait right here."

Forcing herself to smile, Chell nodded. "Great. I won't be long."

"Take your time," he called brightly as she walked.

She headed along the corridor as fast as she could go without breaking into a jog, knocking on the door of Doug's lab before she'd even stopped moving. After a short while, he opened it, looking more than a little annoyed. His expression cleared the moment he saw her face.

"What is it?" he asked at once.

"I need to talk to you," she said earnestly. "Right now, it's important."

Doug's eyes darted nervously down the corridor, but he held the door open for her. "Okay. Come in. Quickly."

Chell darted inside, and Doug let the door close behind her. She took a cursory glance around the room, curious despite the urgency of what she had to say. It was a spacious lab, but cold and clinical. There was a single workbench in the centre of the room, lit by overhead lamps. Whatever it was that Doug was working on sat on top of it, surrounded by blueprints and tools. Chell couldn't figure out what it was supposed to be, which was hardly surprising seeing as it was mostly in pieces.

"I got lost on the way back from here," she began, turning away from the bench. "I know, I know," she said, before he could comment, "you told me."

Doug was listening appraisingly, with folded arms and a grave expression. He didn't say a word on the subject.

"Anyway," Chell went on, "I bumped into this...robot thing. He calls himself a personality core."

"Personality core?" Doug repeated with a frown. "I've never heard that term around here."

"Could be something my dad's been working on. I think he's a prototype, because he doesn't seem to have any purpose, he's just been fobbed off with jobs that don't actually exist."

"Like what?"

"Something about keeping watch for screaming robots in the corridors."

Doug slanted an eyebrow. "Right," he scoffed.

Chell shrugged. "I know, it's stupid. But he mentioned that he used to work somewhere near the neurotoxin generator."

"What?" he said sharply, narrowing his eyes.

"Do you know anything about that? Is it likely that something like that actually exists? Because that makes me really nervous, Doug."

Doug glanced away, running an anxious hand through his hair, causing it to spike up untidily. "I…I've heardrumours, but…I never really knew whether to take it seriously. It…it seems an insane thing to install in a place like this, but…"

"But it's Aperture," Chell finished for him.

"Exactly."

A momentary, depressing silence settled over the lab as they each came to terms with what they'd learned. That there was something that generated poison gas sitting somewhere in the facility was not a comforting thought, especially considering how far away the surface was.

"I was hoping that he'd been lied to," Chell admitted at length, biting her lip.

"You keep saying 'he'," Doug pointed out, his tone subtly inquisitive.

"Oh, he's definitely a 'he'," she told him, beginning to pace. The situation was making her more than a little agitated. "That's why I had to come and talk to you. I...don't know how to...even..." She huffed, exasperated at her lack of cohesion. "He has a name. And he sounds real. I mean, really real. He stutters, rambles, stops mid-sentence, everything."

He stared at her in understandable confusion. "What are you saying?"

Chell glanced at the floor as she walked, still unsure exactly _what_ she was saying. Lifting her gaze to his once more, she halted, asking, "Do you remember the day we met?"

Doug looked briefly uneasy, recalling his arrogant, eighteen-year-old self. "Of course. What's that got to do with anything?"

"We were both in my dad's lab and that British guy came in, he was running late for the conference. Later he and my dad had an argument, and you and I were freaked out. We never talked about it."

He nodded grimly, and she could see him making the connections. "So...you're saying this...core sounds like that man we saw?"

"Like you wouldn't believe. You should come and talk to him, but I...I don't even know what to think, but it's all wrong, somehow. It _feels_ all wrong. And...I don't even know what conclusion I'm trying to reach, because it's all crazy and my dad's mixed up in it."

Doug reached out a hand, gripping her shoulder. "Hey. Calm down, we'll figure this out. Okay?"

Chell nodded, trying to let herself be reassured, trying not to think about the worst-case scenarios that her dad might be involved in. But she knew Aperture. She knew that the worst-case scenarios were often the ones that the company found the most interesting.

"Let's go and talk to this core thing," Doug said, letting go.

"Okay," she agreed. "I left him back in the corridor."

Wheatley was still there, which Chell was pleased about. She'd half expected him to wander off, but he was waiting patiently, optic lighting the walls a soft blue.

"Hello!" he greeted as they approached, his tone bright and enthusiastic. "Wondered how long you'd be. I've been human-watching . None of them saw me. You would not believe the amount of people who don't look up when they're walking around. They're missing all kinds of stuff! Well, mostly just...y'know, ceilings and pipes and fans, but if there ever _is_ anything interesting up there, they are going to miss it."

Doug was staring at Wheatley with an openly shocked expression on his face. Chell could tell he'd thought she was exaggerating. She didn't blame him. He shot her a sidelong glance and she raised an expectant eyebrow, hoping he'd have theories on how, despite appearances, they'd created such a lifelike A.I. He shook his head, and she could see the confusion and concern in his eyes. Disappointed, she turned back to Wheatley.

"Thank you for waiting," Chell said. "My friend has never seen a personality core."

"Oh," said Wheatley, raising his top handle, as if indicating surprise. "Well, here I am. Pretty impressive, I think you'll find."

"Yes," Doug put in, his tone guarded, "very."

They chatted with Wheatley for a while, Doug throwing in questions about his production and purpose, none of which the core could manage to answer. Eventually, when Chell remembered that she was now horribly late back to work, they sent Wheatley on his way, voicing their concerns to each other in hurried whispers.

"There's nothing for it now," Doug said gravely, escorting Chell to the correct corridor back. "You _have_ to speak to your father. This is...too weird to let drop."

"I know," she replied, frowning, already worried about the prospect. "I will. I just hope he'll actually listen this time."

With a shrug, she turned and broke into a run, not stopping until she was back at her desk. Marlene gave her a ten minute lecture about her tardiness, then left her alone with her concerns.

* * *

 **A/N:** I have so much fun writing Wheatley! And for some reason every character I write has a coffee addiction, even the Star Wars ones. It's like I'm projecting or something...

Check out my Deviant Art (sweet-christabel) for illustrations for this chapter.


	8. The Ugly Truth

**A/N:** Welcome to the chapter where Chell confronts her father. Here's hoping it's in a family-bonding kind of way, and not in a confront-Darth-Vader kind of way...

* * *

 **2006.  
The Ugly Truth.**

Despite the late hour of the day, Chell knew her father would still be holed up in the Robotics wing. In recent weeks it seemed that the only time he left the lab was to visit the Artificial Intelligence department next door. The two had merged somewhat since her father had become head of Robotics, to the extent that he was practically running both departments. The stress had added more lines to his increasingly-haggard face, and turned his hair almost entirely grey.

Chell planted herself outside the door to the corridor, her low-level clearance not allowing her to go up to the lab itself. Her dad was a man of routine, and she knew he usually treated himself to a cafeteria coffee around nine o'clock. She gathered her thoughts as she waited, aware that she was embarking on a conversation that she could really do without. Or at least, one that she should be initiating with a full night's sleep and a caffeine hit on her side. Her high heels were sending shooting pains up her ankles, not designed to be worn for such a long amount of time. Her pencil skirt was starting to annoy her too. Not for the first time she wondered why she didn't keep a change of clothes in her office, for all the extra time she spent at the place.

 _Part time hours, my ass_ , she thought to herself.

She leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept properly. Her worries were spiralling out of control. Emma had recently complained about Chell's lack of presence in the house, resulting in an argument that had upset them both. Chell hated the growing distance between them, but she knew she had to prioritise. Her father came first. Besides, she was still paying her half of the rent. She had to skip a few meals to do it, but she made sure the money went out every month.

Chell covered her mouth as she yawned. Aperture was the last place she wanted to be at nine o'clock on a Friday evening. She needed a hot shower and an evening of mind-numbing TV, but she knew she couldn't just leave. They had come too far, discovered so much about what was really going on. And now she was one conversation away from potentially knowing everything.

Approaching footsteps forced her eyes open, and she stepped away from the wall in anticipation. Sure enough, when the automated door split apart, the halves retracting into the ceiling and floor, her father stood behind it.

"Chell," he said, his greeting sounding surprised, laced with fatigue and a trace of wariness. "What brings you down here?"

They were both too tired for pleasantries. "Dad, we need to talk," she began.

Her father sighed heavily, but managed to keep his tone light. "Sounds ominous. Should I be worried?"

"Maybe," Chell answered truthfully, raising a challenging eyebrow. "Should I?"

"What do you mean?"

Again, she jumped straight to the point. "What are you working on?"

At once, his face lost all its weariness, his open expression giving way to irritation. "You know I can't discuss that with you."

"Yes," she shot back rapidly, "because of my clearance, I know. But hell to that. I need to know–"

"No," he interrupted firmly. Tone softening slightly, he added, "I'm not authorised, Chell, we've been through this. And I'm not about to risk my job, or yours for that matter, over stuff that doesn't–"

Refusing to back down, she cut in with, "I need to know about Wheatley."

The effect was instantaneous. Her father halted in his tirade, his eyes wide, his mouth falling open for a brief moment before he pressed his lips tightly together in disapproval. "What?" he barked curtly.

"Tell me about Wheatley," she repeated calmly, his reaction reassuring her that this time she _would_ get answers.

"Where did you hear that name?" he demanded, his voice quiet, and all the more unnerving for it.

Chell kept her answer short and truthful, not wanting to try his patience any more than was necessary. "From a personality core I met in a corridor the other day."

Her father looked aside in confusion, processing the information. "He's calling himself Wheatley?" he asked, almost to himself.

"Yes," she said. With a soft huff, she snapped, "Dad, _what_ is going on? Why does a robot ball sound _exactly_ like an employee that _you_ argued with thirteen years ago?"

Her dad paused for a moment, looking almost like a deer in the headlights. But then he shook himself, met her gaze and spoke up quietly, "You'd better come in."

"Thank you."

Coffee forgotten, he led the way back down the corridor, his movements edgy and tense. Chell followed grimly, finding his unease infectious. She gave herself a mental kick in the shin, pulling herself together. The probability of the truth being unpleasant was – and had always been – highly likely. She had imagined so many worse-case scenarios that she couldn't believe reality could shock her too much. She really hoped she was wrong on that one, that she'd be pleasantly surprised to find that she had over-reacted. But she doubted it.

With an almost-nervous glance up and down the corridor, her dad swiped his card key and opened the lab door, ushering her inside with hurried movements. It was not the low security one that she'd spent time in as a child. This lab was for more advanced work, something that the location and decor did not fail to put across. Perching on a stool, she watched her father scramble to cover a collection of blueprints that were lying on one of the workbenches. She rolled her eyes. She wasn't interested in catching glimpses of paperwork that she wouldn't be able to understand.

Finally he sat down, his posture still rigid. His demeanour screamed impatience, yet he seemed prepared to talk. Annoyed and wary, perhaps, but prepared.

Not wishing to waste what she was beginning to feel was borrowed time, Chell dived straight in with her first question. "What did you do?" At his air of confusion, she tried to specify, the implications of that long-ago employee's fate making her stomach twist. "Did you really...is that man's... _brain_ now running that sphere?"

"No, nothing like that," he answered, and Chell felt a presumptuous wave of relief. "What you've seen is a digitalised copy of a human personality," her dad explained, a glint of pride lighting his dark eyes.

Chell frowned, trying to understand. "So…he's like a robotic clone or something?"

"Not quite. He doesn't have the real Wheatley's memories or identity."

"Who is the real Wheatley?" she asked, unsure if she really wanted to know.

Her father hesitated before replying, and the heavy feeling of dread returned to her gut. "Darren Wheatley was his name," he told her, glancing briefly at his clasped hands. "He was chosen for the prototype because he had exactly the kind of personality we needed."

"Which was?"

"The most inept, irritating person we could find."

She wrinkled her nose, struggling to follow the logic of the project. "Why would you want to put that kind of personality into a robot?"

"He was built for a very specific purpose," her father told her cagily.

Biting down her rising anger, she burst out, "But he _has_ no purpose! When I stumbled across him he was looking for screaming ghosts! And by the sounds of it he's had plenty more stupid jobs over the years."

"That's true," he confirmed, clearing his throat. "He didn't turn out to be as effective as we'd hoped. We're still not sure what to do with him."

"What was he for?"

"Chell, we've been over this," he sighed, rubbing his tired eyes, "I can't tell you anything."

Almost at the end of her tether, Chell decided to drop the name she knew would hold his attention. "So it's to do with the GLaDOS project?" she said casually.

His gaze shot up, meeting hers, his expression a mixture of shock and alarm. "I don't know how you even know what that is, but you need to stop digging. Right now."

"I can't, Dad," she said, her tone firm. "There's something weird going on here. Doug and I both knew it, that time that Darren Wheatley came to your meeting. And don't think I haven't noticed that you used 'was' not 'is' when you were talking about him," she accused crossly. "That's why he was scared when you were trying to persuade him, isn't it? He knew the...process, whatever it is, was dangerous. Didn't he?" At his continued silence, she slammed her palm down on the workbench beside them, so hard her hand tingled from the impact. "Answer me!"

Her dad jumped a little in his seat. "Yes, he...he was warned that there might be...complications," he muttered. There was a greater edge of guilt to his expression than there had been so far. Then it vanished and his eyes became harder as he rationalised what he had done. "This kind of technology has _never_ been attempted before. Or since. Until we can refine the procedure, we've focused on purely artificial personality cores. Darren Wheatley...didn't survive the process."

As the confirmation of her suspicions sank in, Chell felt her shoulders slump, cold nausea sweeping through her stomach. "So the core is all that's left of him?" she said, thinking out loud. "An entire life and he's just a...metal ball with no memories and no real purpose?"

Her father said nothing, looking away at the organised chaos on the workbench.

Chell's thoughts cleared as something occurred to her. In a surprisingly level voice, she asked, "If he can't remember being Darren, how is he calling himself Wheatley?"

"I have no idea," he said with a shrug. "I can only guess that he overheard the lab boys talking."

Swiftly losing patience with his lack of forthcoming information, and the whole conversation in general, Chell spun out random theories, trying to hit near the mark. "Was Wheatley a prototype because you plan on copying other people's personalities? Is that what GLaDOS is?"

"No, not exactly."

"I'm not moving from here until you tell me what's going on," she growled, folding her arms, jutting her chin out stubbornly.

He sent her a sidelong glance that seemed to be concocted entirely from exhaustion and shame. Taken aback, she softened her tone.

"I'm worried about you, can't you see that?" she spoke up. "I'm worried about what you're mixed up in."

He stared resolutely at the floor for a long few seconds, then lifted his gaze, new clarity lighting his eyes. "Okay," he said with a reluctant nod. "Okay. I'll...I'll tell you. But let me get a cup of coffee first, okay? Can you wait that long?"

Feeling strangely cruel in the face of his fatigue, she regretted her harshness a little. Nodding, she attempted a shaky smile. "Sure."

"Would you like a cup? I was going to get a half decent one from the cafeteria, but I have some instant here."

The warmth and the caffeine sounded appealing, so she made her smile a touch more genuine. "Yes, thank you."

Her father got to his feet, padding over to the kettle by the sink. While it boiled, he set about assembling the granules, milk and sugar in two mugs, while Chell gathered her thoughts and tried hard not to think about what she'd learned. If she had any chance of getting through the rest of her questions, she had to maintain control of her emotions.

"Have you ever really wanted to work here?" her dad asked, shooting the question over his shoulder as he poured the milk. "Or was all this brought on by what you saw when you were ten?"

"I knew something wasn't right and I never forgot it," she told him honestly, raising her voice over the noise of the kettle. "And when I was old enough to take care of myself, you practically disappeared off the face of the Earth, at least according to people who didn't know that you were spending all your time here. When I got here, I ran into Doug again. We quickly realised that we both still had suspicions about what was actually going on here."

He gave a bitter bark of humourless laughter. "I wondered if this was because of Rattmann. You know he has schizophrenia, right?"

"Of course I know that," Chell snapped, her anger spiking once again. "What difference does it make?"

"His mind plays tricks on him."

Clenching her teeth against retorts she knew she'd regret, she spat out a disjointed collection of short sentences. "I know that. But in this instance we're right. And besides, that's what medication is for. He has it under control." Sighing, she tried for a more reasonable tone. "Dad, Aperture is not run like a science facility should be run. I mean, the test subjects alone have a case for–"

"You think other companies are any better?" he interrupted, the resentful edge leaking into his voice once more. "Believe me, Black Mesa is just as bad. They're just better at keeping it under wraps."

Chell shook her head in exasperation. "I don't care about Black Mesa, Dad, I care about you and what you're working on."

He stirred the sugar into their coffee, then made his way back to the workbench, setting a cup down beside her. "Here."

She nodded her thanks, not trusting herself to speak again until she had regained control. Her father took his seat again, wrapping his calloused hands around the heat the mug offered. His gaze was far away as he reflected, but when he spoke his voice was clear and animated.

"GLaDOS is...well, she's the future."

Chell wondered at his use of the word 'she', but held her tongue and waited for him to continue.

"It stands for Genetic Lifeform and Disc Operating System," he went on. "When she's up and running, she'll be able to run the entire facility. Efficiency will double, the facility will be more environmentally friendly because GLaDOS will have total control over the power usage, and we'll no longer need as many scientists to oversee tests. She'll be able to monitor them all, all at the same time."

"That sounds great, Dad," she said with heavy sarcasm, "but why is it causing you so much trouble?"

"It's a very complex piece of technology, it takes time to refine," he explained defensively. "If it's successful, Lazarus Grey will find his workload halved. You and Marlene might have to look elsewhere for employment."

"You sound pretty pleased about that," she muttered challengingly, taking a tiny sip of her hot drink.

He narrowed his eyes at her, fixing her with a familiar disapproving look. "I've made it no secret that I've never wanted you here. This place is dangerous, Chell."

"Why?" she queried sharply, the word thrown between them like a gauntlet. "There's obviously stuff you're not saying, and I refuse to believe that GLaDOS is as wonderful as you make out."

"There have been...complications," her father admitted, his brow furrowed.

"The kind of complications that occurred when you built Wheatley?"

"In truth...yes, similar circumstances."

More deaths, he meant. Chell closed her eyes briefly, glancing away from him to take a comforting gulp of coffee, composing herself once more.

"Although that was before my time," he continued, "before I joined the project."

"How long has this been in development?" she asked.

Her father took a long sip of his own drink before replying. "It was the last thing Cave Johnson commissioned before he died. He wanted to cheat death by transferring his brain into a computer. Unfortunately, for him, he passed away before it was anywhere near ready. That was the late 80s. The project has been in slow development since."

She frowned at the phrasing. "Why 'slow' development?"

He was looking increasingly uncomfortable at her line of questioning, but Chell was discovering that her earlier sympathy was lessening the more she heard.

"Because," he spoke up, the reluctance leaking into his voice, "the alternative host wasn't completely willing and tried to stall the project where it could be stalled."

"But why–" Her thoughts came up short, side-lined by a sudden realisation as the unbidden image of a woman she had hated as a child popped into her mind. "Oh my god..." she gasped, "it was Caroline, wasn't it?" His expression told her all she needed to know, and her mouth fell open in shock. "You told me she got promoted, but she was CEO! There is no higher role."

"Technically, that wasn't a lie," her father said hurriedly, glancing down at his cup when she shot him a filthy look. "She will, eventually, be in charge of everything."

Chell threw up one hand in exasperation. "But it isn't her, is it? You said Wheatley was just a copy."

"No, it's different. Wheatley is different technology," he insisted, tapping his hand on the workbench for emphasis. In an obstinate, defensive tone, he went on, "It takes precision to remove the memories and keep the personality. With Caroline, everything was transferred: memories, personality, ambition. All of it. Of course, that was fifteen years ago, technology wasn't quite as precise as it is now. GLaDOS is more like a clone, with a completely robotic chassis." With a tired huff, he reconsidered his words. "Or, she _was_. We've had to repress her memories. She kept…trying to kill us, trying to get revenge for what she calls…the murder of her human self."

Chell's knuckles had gone white where she gripped her mug. "I don't blame her," she murmured, trying to balance her pity for the woman with the dislike she'd felt as a child. "That's…horrific." _Inhumane_ , her mind added silently. She raised her cup once more, the hot, sweet liquid suddenly leaving an unexpected bitter taste in her mouth.

Her dad ran a jaded hand across his forehead. "Unfortunately, she seems to think that killing is the way forward."

Chell's eyes widened in alarm, but she let him go on.

"Every time we activate her, she tries it again." He sighed heavily, shaking his head as if in disapproval at the robot's actions. Actions which, in a kind of twisted logic, seemed almost justified from where Chell was sitting. "Wheatley was built to be an intelligence dampening sphere. We used him to distract GLaDOS from wanting to murder us all."

"I'm guessing it didn't work," Chell said sardonically.

"No, not for long. She found a way to tune out his voice."

The story was leaving a cold, sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, but she knew she had to hear the rest. "What happened?"

"You were there," he said, meeting her gaze briefly for the first time since he'd called a break. "That was Bring Your Daughter To Work Day. She started pumping neurotoxin through the vents."

Chell cast her mind back to that day, which she could remember parts of in clear detail. Air conditioning vent system compromised, the announcement had said, sending hundreds of people flocking to the surface. Despite her young age, she had known that there was more to that than met the eye. She just hadn't been in a position to find out what.

"Oh my god," she whispered, recalling how easily she could have gotten lost in the labyrinthine corridors.

"Honestly, that memory is kind of hazy to me," her dad said, cutting through her reflections. "I was so worried about you. I can't tell you how relieved I was to see you outside with everyone else." He sounded more like the man she'd known, caught up in his memories, and Chell found herself startled at the difference in his persona. "Georgia told me you ran away from the event."

Taken aback, she blinked, processing his comment. "Wait, you knew about that? But you never said… Never mind. So if Doug hadn't found me, I could have died that day?"

"I try not to think about it," he answered swiftly. With a tiny, wry smile, he added, "I think that even at ten years old, you were tenacious enough to find your way out. But..." A shrug and the levity was gone.

Chell bit her lip, trying to reconcile this re-emergence of the caring father she remembered with the taciturn scientist whose story she was listening to. Deep in thought, she drained the rest of her coffee, setting the empty mug back on the workbench.

"So…" she began, reluctantly steering his narrative away from the past, "you're trying to find ways of repressing GLaDOS's desire to...kill us all?"

He nodded, staring down into his cup. The aura of guilt settled uneasily around his shoulders like a shock blanket. "That's the plan."

"Meanwhile you've just left Wheatley to roam the corridors?" Chell said, her words a touch more accusatory than she had intended.

"Well, he's really not a priority right now," her father stated, some of his earlier indifference seeping back into his tone.

She made a snap decision. "Can I have him?"

Her dad glanced up at her in surprise. "Huh?"

"Can I have him?" she repeated.

His eyes narrowed warily. "Chell, if this is some way of...of...paying tribute to that man, then–"

"I think he'd be useful to have around the office," she interjected nonchalantly. "He can take messages to people."

"Right," he muttered, seeming thoroughly unconvinced, but, fortunately, not especially bothered. "Well, sure, I guess. If that's what you want, but he's programmed to make bad decisions, you know."

"He won't be making any decisions," she said stubbornly. "He'll be following my orders."

"Okay," he conceded dubiously. "I'll send him down to you in the morning."

She nodded with more politeness than seemed necessary. "Thank you."

He gave her a curt nod in return, and silence fell between them as Chell once again collected her thoughts, running through everything she'd learned. She yawned widely, covering her mouth with her hand, and gave a cursory glance at her watch.

"Tired?" her dad asked casually.

"I'm fine," she found herself snapping.

Another awkward period of hush fell. Chell sighed, the weight of her knowledge pressing down on her shoulders.

"How can you do it, Dad?" she asked at length, vaguely impressed that she'd held that particular question back for so long.

His lips pursed, and she surmised that he was biting his tongue against a retort. She seized the opportunity to continue her outburst.

"How can you get involved in stuff that people have been murdered for? I...I can't get my head around it. I just...can't. That's not who I thought you were."

She watched his face contort at the sound of her disappointment and horror. But when he spoke again, it was in the same fervent, almost delusional tone that he'd used when speaking about GLaDOS. She was quickly growing to hate it.

"I...I have no way of justifying myself to you," he declared, sounding equal parts defensive and remorseful, and unsure which he really was. "It just...it draws you in. The progress we're making, the theories that are becoming reality, it's...exhilarating. No other company has even gotten close to where we are in the artificial intelligence field."

"For good reason!" she exclaimed heatedly.

"There are always casualties when making breakthroughs like this," he argued. "Look at Marie Curie, or–"

"Don't you dare draw that kind of comparison, there is _no_ excuse for what Aperture has done…what _you_ are doing." Her anger was broken up by another yawn, but she determinedly kept going. "People are _dying_. And you don't even seem to care."

"I can't afford to care," he shot back harshly. "I'm a scientist. I get things done."

Chell blinked back the tears that gathered at his words, too incensed to let herself cry.

"What happened to you?" she said pleadingly. "You've been down here too long, the man I knew would never be as cold as you're being right now." She did not hold back on her hurt and disillusionment, letting ample amounts of both bleed through as she spoke. "The man who adopted me, who raised me, would never stand for this. The man who once helped me nurse a sick bird back to health when it flew into our kitchen window would _care_. I…" Her voice broke and she swallowed hard. "I look at you and I don't recognise you anymore."

For a moment a picture of dismay passed over his face, but it was soon replaced by aggravation. "I'm not looking for approval from you or from anyone."

"Just as well," she spat, "because you'll never have it."

Reaching out with a shaky hand, he placed his mug on the bench. Calmly, matter-of-factly, he asked, "You care about some of the people that work here, don't you?"

Chell looked at him incredulously, her expression full of more contempt than she truly felt. The room gave a sudden lurch and she blinked in confusion. _Calm down_ , she ordered herself.

"What sort of question is that?" she said with annoyance. "Of course I do."

He sat back, folding his arms, eyebrows raised inquisitively. "What do you think will happen to them if you take your little story to the papers? Huh? What do you think will happen to me, or to Marlene, or to Hannah? Or Doug?"

She clenched her teeth as he dropped names, not amused to have her associates used as an argument. "Dad, I'm going to say this as many times as it takes for it to sink in. People. Are. Dying...Needlessly," she growled, separating each word. "Do people's jobs really matter more than that?"

He shook his head, glancing away. "You are _so_ naive." The statement wasn't spoken with as much venom as it could have been, but came out sounding rather sad instead.

Chell pulled a face. "Better that than..."

Her father cut her off. "So you really would do it, then? Go to the papers?"

"I _will_ ," she corrected, annoyed that he sounded more curious than concerned, irritated that he was not treating it with the seriousness it deserved. But there was no real malice to her irritation. She was too tired for that, her anger becoming lost in a sudden haze of fatigue.

"I'm sorry," her dad muttered aloud, out of the blue. His voice was edged with regret, his expression pained.

"I'm sorry too," she replied simply.

"I don't know if I'll ever be able to earn your forgiveness," he went on, as if she hadn't spoken, "and pretty soon it won't matter, but...I am so sorry, honey." He met her gaze with guilt-ridden eyes and she felt a trickle of cold suspicion travel the length of her spine.

"What do you mean it won't matter?" she asked, trying hard not to panic, hoping there would be something in his manner that would tell her she was wrong. "Why wouldn't it..."

He looked away, glancing inevitably towards her empty mug.

"Oh my god," she whimpered, torn between screaming in outrage and bursting into tears. "You've...you've drugged me, haven't you?"

"A concoction of short-term memory loss drugs, plus a sedative," he rattled off monotonously, staring fixedly at the mug. "You'll be fine in an hour or so, but you won't remember the last few hours." Finally, he tore his gaze away, settling it on her face. He looked mortified, but resigned. "I...I had to. I'm sorry, but you can't know any of this. It's for your own good."

The tears spilled onto her cheeks and she blindly stumbled to her feet. "You..." she began, the remainder of the sentence getting lost in the overwhelming desire to shut her eyes and rest. She blinked rapidly as a wave of dizziness threatened to send her crashing to the floor. Giving herself a shake, she started for the door.

"Where are you going?" her father asked hesitantly, genuine concern coming a little too late.

"To the break room," Chell snapped stubbornly. "If I'm going to...pass out…" She fought off another bout of dizziness. "…I at least want to do it on a couch."

He gave a huff of annoyance at her attitude. "You won't make it that far, sit down."

Through clenched teeth, she muttered, "Yes. I. Will."

She reached the door and yanked the handle, blinking rapidly to keep her eyes open.

A final trio of defeated words hit her back as she left. "I'm sorry, Chell."

"Not…enough," she shot over her shoulder, not bothering to see the impact it made. She slammed the door shut behind her and started down the corridor, running her hand along the wall for balance. The fog of exhaustion was clouding her thoughts at an alarming rate, and she struggled to stay upright and awake. Blur after blur of white coats passed her, not one of them stopping to ask if she was all right. Most likely they thought she was tipsy, having started the weekend early. The CEO's assistant's assistant was not worth their notice.

 _Stop getting distracted. Remember! You have to remember!_

Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy, and she bit her tongue, trying to focus on the dull pain. She used the resulting burst of wakefulness to get through the automatic door into the main corridor, half walking, half running for a few feet before she was required to slow down. The lethargy was making her dizzy again, and she pressed her palms to the cool, mottled surface of the wall. There was another white blur in her peripheral vision, and a vaguely familiar sound. Running footsteps.

The blur got bigger, the steps got louder, and then there was a supporting arm across her back, a steady hand gripping her shoulder.

"Chell! Chell, it's okay, I've got you."

Doug.

 _I'm okay now_ , she thought hazily, letting her eyes drift blissfully closed. _But…have to remember._

Groggily, she forced her eyes open, trying to focus on Doug's openly concerned face. "Doug. I...found out so much. But...drugged. People...dying." Her sentences wouldn't come out right, and she frowned in frustration. Didn't her body realise how important this was?

"It's okay," he told her soothingly, squeezing her shoulder.

But it wasn't okay. "No," she insisted, blinking. "Need to...tell you. Before...forget."

He shook his head, his eyes full of earnest reassurance. "Don't worry, I heard everything." His voice was quietly confident, and it was almost enough to convince her, but it seemed so improbable, even to her drug-fogged mind.

"What?" she asked in confusion.

"I'll explain it when you wake up," Doug promised. "Don't worry. I've got you, you're okay. You're okay."

Left with no choice but to believe him, Chell gave in to the invading fatigue and slumped in his arms, unconscious before he even gathered his wits enough to keep her from hitting the floor.

* * *

Doug stumbled slightly under her sudden weight as her knees gave way. Awkwardly he scooped her up in a clumsy classic lift.

"Movies always make this look so easy," he grumbled under his breath, shifting her so her head rested more comfortably on his shoulder.

He made his way back down the corridor, wondering what he was going to say to his co-workers if they happened to see them. It was slow going. Chell was by no means an overly heavy burden, but Doug was not an athletic man.

When he made it back to the ASHPD lab, he realised that he needed to swipe his card to open the door. Keeping a firm grip around Chell's shoulders, he carefully lowered her feet to the floor, struggling not to drop her as he ran the card through the reader. He pushed the door open with one hand, then gathered her into his arms again, making sure not to knock her head on the doorframe as they passed through it. Kicking the door shut behind them, Doug elbowed the light switch, flooding the lab with sickly, bright light. With ungainly movements, he knelt down in the clear patch of floor, lowering Chell to the scratchy carpet tiles. He let her head rest awkwardly on his knee as he struggled briefly to tug off his lab coat. Rolling it up into a vague pillow shape, he carefully placed it under her head, brushing loose strands of hair out of her face. As an afterthought, he pulled off her uncomfortable-looking shoes, then sat back against the wall to get his breath back.

 _You're really not hero material, are you?_ he thought to himself. He gave a silent huff of ironic laughter. _Really not._

He sighed, pressing his fingertips to his tired, gritty eyes. It was looking unlikely that he'd get home tonight. He was thankful for his foresight in keeping spare shirts and underwear in an empty drawer. Nobody had noticed that he'd been wearing the same tie for almost a week.

Doug glanced over at his workbench, at the nearly-completed ASHPD model that he was constructing, and wondered if he could focus enough to try and figure out what wasn't working. It was difficult, trying to cram updated versions of the old technology into a device that was a third of the size. The old quantum tunneller had been a huge, cumbersome thing that required the user to wear a heavy backpack. It had been clumsy and impractical, and had severely limited what could be achieved in the testing chambers. The new handheld version was easier to use, although not quite as light and streamlined as he'd been hoping to make it. The only problem was it didn't work.

He leaned his head back against the wall, accepting that he probably wasn't going to get any work done. There were things he _could_ be doing. He had several sheets of data to enter on the computer, but that was a dull, laborious task. Lazarus Grey insisted on every single thing being recorded on the server, presumably so that GLaDOS would be fully informed when she was activated. He wasn't so forthcoming with the information, of course, at least, not to the lower-ranking scientists, but Doug had read between the lines as he'd listened to Simon talking to Chell.

He needed to finish the portal gun. It was likely he'd earn a promotion if he did, and then he could get involved in the GLaDOS project. As their friendship grew, Henry was a bit more liberal with information than he probably should have been, but even he had his limits on what he would tell. Doug needed to get on it himself. Only then could he find a way to make it safe, or shut it down. Either one would suit him.

Troubled, he glanced down at the unconscious woman at his feet. Chell was dead to the world. Doug felt a flare of anger that her own father would drug her against her will rather than let her know the truth about his work. Aperture had a way of turning people into delusional obsessives.

She looked peaceful, at least, almost serene. Her hair splayed out like a dark halo, her arms loosely by her sides, as if thinking about reaching out. _Her pose would make a good painting_ , he thought idly. He shut the thought down. It seemed in poor taste, considering everything that had gone on that evening.

Shifting away from the wall, Doug reached carefully into the breast pocket of Chell's blouse, removing the tiny microphone he'd planted there earlier. He remembered gripping her shoulders, telling her that everything would be okay. She'd never noticed the mic falling into her pocket. He felt guilty for not telling her, but he'd been afraid that her awareness of it would give it away. He'd apologise when she woke up, although he suspected that she'd understand.

He pulled the receiver and recording device from his own pocket, thankful that he'd thought to record the conversation. He'd thought that it might be useful as evidence sometime in the future. That he'd need to use it for Chell herself because she'd ended up dosed with a memory loss drug had, unsurprisingly, never occurred to him. It would be much easier for Chell to listen to it than for him to try and relay everything himself. That was not a conversation that he wanted to have, but he knew she would need some explanation. She would be extremely disoriented when she woke up.

With a sigh, Doug leaned back against the wall again, closing his eyes. A nap was just what he needed to clear his thoughts and refresh his overworked brain, but he knew it was wishful thinking. There was no way that his overworked brain was going to let him sleep, even though it would be in its best interest. Simply closing his eyes and pretending that he _could_ sleep wasn't going to cut it.

Inwardly swearing, he sat forward again, scrambling to his feet. With another apprehensive glance back at Chell, he pulled his tattered Art Therapy book off its shelf, flicking through the pages until he found an exercise he hadn't yet done. Sitting down at the bench, he pulled a piece of scrap paper towards him, plucked a pencil from the pot on the table and started to draw.

* * *

 **A/N:** Father-daughter bonding fail.


	9. General Lunacy

**2006.  
General Lunacy.**

"He's in there," Chell stated, ducking her head back out of the fifth level cafeteria. "I'm not going in."

Doug gripped her upper arm firmly. "Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"You have to, otherwise this is just going to look really weird. You're meant to be acting as if nothing happened, remember?"

She met his gaze angrily. "Doug, he _drugged_ me."

His mismatched blue gaze was unwavering. "That's irrelevant. You have to go in there as usual. You have to look him in the eye and greet him normally. Otherwise, he'll just find a way to do it again."

Chell bit her lip anxiously, deflating in sudden defeat. "I don't know if I can."

With a trace of sympathy, Doug said, "Chell, I'm sorry, but you have to. You can't avoid him forever, he's your father."

"That just makes it worse," she muttered, frowning. After a moment, she took a deep breath and finally nodded, standing up straighter. "Okay," she said, her tone distinctly harried. "Let's go."

Purposely not looking at where her father stood in the line for hot food, Chell marched up to the glass-fronted refrigerator and began browsing the sandwiches. Her father caught sight of her when she joined the line to pay, and sent her a hesitant smile. Forcing herself to focus on happy childhood memories, she returned the smile as warmly as she could manage. She silently cursed when he joined the line behind her, however.

"How are you?" he asked quietly, as if he was afraid of the answer.

Chell glanced at him, schooling her features into a more natural smile with a touch of puzzlement. He never usually asked her that, so she felt the confusion was justified.

"I'm fine, why?"

"Can't a father ask his daughter how she is?" he said defensively.

She shrugged. "Well, sure, but I've not seen you in a while. I figured you knew everything was fine."

He nodded, not managing to hide the relief that crossed his face. Perhaps he'd been concerned about unseen side effects to the memory loss drug.

 _More likely he was worried I remembered something_ , she thought acrimoniously.

It was odd, but since she didn't remember their conversation first-hand, it did almost seem as if she hadn't seen him for a while. Yet, she knew differently, thanks to Doug's recording.

The man himself was further down the line. He met her eyes, warning her to keep her cool. She gave him a subtle nod.

She paid for her sandwich and coffee, managing to bid her dad a neutrally cheerful farewell, then, thankfully, turned her back on him. Hannah waved at her from a table across the room that she was sharing with a young man Chell hadn't seen before. He was around thirty years old with youthful features, and he sported the blondest hair Chell had ever seen, artfully crafted into tiny, even spikes. Hannah was her usual untidy self, her untameable spirals of black hair wrestled into a ponytail, her glasses sitting askew on her nose. As Chell drew closer, she saw that Hannah's vibrant eye make-up, which always made her look younger than her forty-one years, was carefully applied in bright blue swirls from the outer corners of her eyes to the ends of her eyebrows, luminous against her flawless dark skin. Genuinely smiling for the first time since entering the cafeteria, Chell took a seat opposite them.

"Hi," she greeted brightly.

"Chell, this is my good friend Adam," Hannah said without preamble. "He works in Test Subject Observation and Care."

That grabbed Chell's interest, as she'd heard a lot of rumours about the tests and the test subjects, but she wasn't sure how much to believe. She shot Adam a warm smile.

"Nice to meet you."

"You too," he replied politely. "Hannah's told me a lot about you."

"Ah."

"All good, I promise!" Hannah cut in with a laugh.

Chell grinned, shooting a glance over her shoulder to see where Doug was. He was sitting a few tables away with Henry and two other scientists that she didn't know. From the look on his face, the talk was serious. She turned back to her companions and began to fight her way through the sandwich's ridiculous packaging.

"So," she said as she worked, "how are things in Test Subject Observation and Care?"

"Pretty slow right now," Adam told them, digging into a bag of potato chips. "We've been told to wind things down until the new piece of equipment arrives."

"Ooh, what's that?" Hannah asked before Chell could.

Adam shrugged his lanky shoulders. "We don't know yet. Some kind of device that will make for some interesting tests, apparently. It's still being finished."

Finally gaining access to her lunch, Chell took a bite, stealthily checking Adam's clearance level over the top of her sandwich. It was a nine. High enough that he probably shouldn't have been talking about his work. Still, she wasn't about to point that out.

"That must be frustrating," she commented, dropping an edge of sympathy into her tone.

"Oh, it is. But we're told we should be getting it soon. Within a month or so." He shrugged again. "Hopefully the new device will bring in some new test subjects. It's getting harder and harder to find volunteers from the general public."

"Why don't you use volunteers from within the company?" Hannah suggested, sipping her tea with her pinky finger sticking out. "That's what Mr. Johnson used to do, they say. Back in the 80s."

Adam seemed to consider it, tapping his chin with an index finger. "Could do," he mused. "Couldn't hurt to ask, I guess."

"I'll volunteer," Chell found herself saying.

He shot her a surprised look. "You will?"

"Sure, why not?" She took a swig of coffee, hoping she wasn't making a mistake. "What does it entail, anyway?"

Adam straightened up in his seat, curling his hands around his can of Aperture Laboratories Generic Cola Refreshment. "Well, we run you through a series of preliminary tests first, to see if you're suitable to be a test subject. If you are, we put you through the main tests and record the data. At the end you get a certificate and, I don't know, maybe a bonus. I'll speak to Mr. Grey."

Chell nodded. It didn't sound too bad, and it could be a learning experience. "Count me in."

"Cool!" With his excited face and bright eyes, he seemed to resemble a young child on Christmas morning.

Chell bit back a smirk at the observation. "You can usually find me in the outer office in room 103, level four."

Adam jotted the information down on a tiny notepad he pulled from his breast pocket. "Thanks." Turning to Hannah, he asked, "What about you?"

"What about me?" the bespectacled woman said indignantly. "I'm not being a test subject, so get that out of your mind right now, young man!"

Chell sniggered, and Adam looked genuinely taken aback.

"Okay, okay," he muttered. "I just thought…you know….it _was_ your suggestion."

Hannah waved a finger in his face. "Yes. I'm a suggester of things, not a tester of…other things."

Adam batted her hand away. "Okay, I get it."

He pulled a face at Chell and she laughed. The grin faded from her face as her father approached the table, saying her name quietly by way of greeting.

"What's up?" she asked casually, inwardly hoping he wouldn't ask to join them. She couldn't imagine anything more awkward.

"I won't take up too much of your time," he said, balancing a steaming bowl of soup on his tray. "I was wondering if you'd do me a favour."

Chell tried not to look too confused. "Um…okay. What?"

"I have a little robot sphere that I'm not sure what to do with," he explained, his expression neutral. "He's a prototype. I was hoping you might be able to find a use for him carrying messages or something."

Chell wasn't supposed to be able to recall asking for Wheatley, but her dad was honouring his promise regardless. She wasn't sure what to make of that.

"Oh…uh…sure, if you don't want it."

Her father smiled briefly, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Great. His name's Wheatley. I'll have ceiling rails put in and send him down to you later. Be warned though, he talks a lot."

She nodded. "Noted. Thanks, Dad."

He sent her another insincere smile, bobbing his head in acknowledgement, then moved away to sit with some of his co-workers.

Chell glanced over her shoulder again. Doug raised an eyebrow at her, clearly having seen the exchange. She gave a minute shake of her head. It didn't need discussing right away. He lowered his head in a kind of half-nod, then allowed himself to be drawn into a debate by Henry. Chell turned back to her half-eaten sandwich.

"Looks like you've adopted a robot, then," Hannah said, sounding impressed.

"Looks like it," Chell agreed. "I hope he's not more trouble than he's worth."

* * *

As it turned out, Wheatley was exactly the kind of thing the office needed to liven it up a bit. He turned out to be very good at keeping the stationary organised, he delivered messages of low importance to people up and down the management corridor, even to some departments on other floors, and he was quicker at finding Bob the maintenance man than anyone else. He also personally greeted everyone who entered Chell's office, which turned out to be a constant source of entertainment for her, as anyone who wished to reach Marlene or Lazarus's offices had to go through hers first.

It was certainly true that he talked a lot, so much so that Marlene had taken to keeping her office door closed, something that Chell had been wishing for ever since she'd started. Chell found that she was able to tune his chatter out when she needed to concentrate, however, so she didn't find it a problem. In fact, she quite enjoyed having a friendly voice to listen to, rather than Marlene's sharp telephone manner.

Doug appeared in her office doorway a week later. They hadn't had chance to talk since the cafeteria, as Doug had been holed up working on whatever it was he was working on, and then it had been the weekend. It was rare that he found time or a valid reason to visit her office.

"Hello!" Wheatley greeted him, sliding forward on the pretzel-like track of rail in the ceiling. "You're looking good today."

Chell ducked behind her computer monitor to hide her smile as Doug glanced up with a bemused expression.

"Uh…thanks, Wheatley."

"Don't mention it." The sphere turned away, moving back to where he was directing a small robotic claw to rearrange the notice board.

"He greets everyone like that," Chell explained between giggles.

"That's…good," he said without much conviction.

Chell saved the spreadsheet she was working on and leaned her elbows on the desk. "What brings you up here, anyway?"

He perched on the edge of the desk, folding his arms. There was dirt on his sleeves, and a mark that looked a lot like a burn.

"I was going to ask what your conversation with your dad was about, but Wheatley being here answers that," he told her.

"He offered him to me," she said with a shrug. "As a favour."

Doug absorbed the information with a thoughtful look, but said nothing.

"Guess he felt guilty," she added. "Which is…something, I guess."

He sent her a sympathetic half-smile that said she hadn't been successful at hiding her bitterness.

"I'm here for another reason too," Doug said quietly. "I've finished my project. At least, I think I have. So I might be eligible for promotion. I need to report directly to Lazarus."

Chell's eyes widened as she realised what he meant. "Well done," she told him sincerely. "That's, what, two years of work?"

"Almost. I've been struggling with the refinements for so long, but…this morning something occurred to me. I made one change and…" He gestured with a paint-spattered hand. "Suddenly it's working. I saw you talking with one of the guys from Test Subject Observation at lunch the other day. He's going to be really pleased if it gets approved."

She frowned up at him, leaning forward. "You mean you're the one building the device they've been waiting for?"

"He _told_ you about that?"

"He dropped hints. Although he shouldn't even have done that. I said I'd volunteer as a test subject."

Doug glanced at her sharply. "You said what? Are you out of your mind?"

She raised her eyebrows, surprised by his reaction. "It's not a big deal."

He exhaled noisily, standing up to pace in front of her desk. "Chell, the tests are dangerous. Since they began in the 50s there have been…countless injuries and fatalities. You know as well as I do, Aperture does _not_ care about the welfare of its test subjects."

"Yes, I realise that," she hissed, mindful of Wheatley at the other end of the office. "I thought it would be a good source of information. And…maybe the tests are hard, but I'm not stupid, I won't take any unnecessary risks."

"But you can't guarantee–" he began.

Marlene's office door opened and she strode in, heading straight for the bookcase in the corner. She didn't even cast Chell a single glance.

"How was your weekend?" Doug asked, his tone a little more level.

Chell sat back in her chair, adjusting to the change of topic. Their friendship had grown closer over the years, especially as the secrecy of their discoveries drew them together, but they very rarely saw each other outside of work. Every Monday involved a catch up about the weekend, despite the fact that Doug had almost always spent his in his lab, and Chell had almost always stayed at home in order to save money.

"Uh…date," she answered with a tiny, embarrassed shrug. It had been the first one in a long while. "I think I mentioned it last week."

There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes. "Ah," he said, a trace of wariness in his tone. "Yes, you did. How did it go?"

"Disaster, actually," she said with a quiet huff. "He seemed okay the first time we met. Turns out he's actually a douchebag. Stop laughing!"

Doug attempted to control his smirk, not succeeding particularly well. "I'm sorry, I really am. But you have such a way with words."

Chell felt her lips twitch and tried not to give in. Truthfully, she didn't mind his teasing. At least he seemed in a better mood.

"Well," she said with a shrug. "I guess I was holding him up to some pretty high standards." She shot him an impish smile.

He tilted his head in confusion, then narrowed his eyes at her thoughtfully, as if trying to decipher exactly what she meant.

Marlene looked up from the reference book she was studying, smiling sweetly. "Chell, what are you working on at the moment?" she said pointedly.

Chell retaliated with false pleasantness of her own. "I'm just waiting for Mr. Grey to get out of his conference call so that I can tell him Mr. Rattmann is here to see him. The line is still busy at the moment."

"You're here to see Mr. Grey?" Marlene asked Doug, her surprise evident.

"Yes, I am. That's all right, isn't it?"

Marlene studied him, frowning as she tried to figure out if he was being rude or not. Doug simply smiled at her until she nodded.

"Of course it is," she said at last. "He shouldn't be long."

Doug nodded. "Excellent."

When Marlene wasn't looking, Chell slowly shook her head at him, smirking. He shrugged innocently.

They stood and sat in relative silence until Marlene withdrew to her office, taking the reference book with her. Wheatley was quietly talking to himself, debating how best to organise the notice board.

"Can you come down to the lab when you're free?" Doug said softly, once the door clicked closed.

"Should be fine," Chell answered curiously. "Why?"

"If you're insisting on being a test subject, I'm going to make sure you're prepared."

She quirked an eyebrow in surprise. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

Doug smiled, just barely, although there was very little amusement in it. "I think it's time I introduced you to the Aperture Science Handheld Portal Device."


	10. Bring Your Cat To Work Day

**2007.  
Bring Your Cat To Work Day. **

Almost a year had passed since Chell had decided to volunteer as a test subject. It had turned out to be a short-lived experiment for her. Much to Adam's embarrassment, she had been rejected within an hour. In her mind, she hadn't done anything wrong, but it seemed she and Aperture had differing priorities when it came to testing. Chell aimed to solve the puzzle and get to the exit, while Aperture preferred test subjects to do as well as possible, but to focus on taking extremely good care of the expensive equipment in the chambers. She was marked down for damage to testing apparatus, then somehow managed to annoy the scientist observing her, which resulted in petulant scribbles across her testing record declaring her to be 'abnormally stubborn'. A stern dismissal followed, hand-delivered by an awkward Adam.

It seemed ridiculous, but she supposed she shouldn't complain. She wasn't sure that testing was for her after all, despite how impressed she'd been with the portal device. Doug had been relieved to hear about her rejection, but also somewhat amused when she told him the reasons why. After he'd had time to get over his initial annoyance, Adam saw the funny side as well, often teasing her about it whenever she dropped by his office. Chell knew she'd never live it down, but luckily the sheer absurdity of it kept her smiling. That and Marlene's unique expression when she heard the news: a bizarre hybrid of long-suffering non-surprise, pained amusement, and smugness, because she had advised against Chell's volunteering.

After praising his achievements with the ASHPD, Lazarus Grey had indeed promoted Doug to work on the GLaDOS project. Although he got on with his work with minimal fuss, Doug was constantly uneasy about it. Chell saw less of him, and heard very little about how the project was going. He had told her that she already knew most of it from what her dad had said, but she had been picking up additional pieces of information since then. She knew that her dad's departments were responsible for the bulk of it, including the worst element: Caroline. She knew that Doug's friend, Henry, had been working on more cores like Wheatley to try and tame the robot's desire to kill. She knew that Doug himself had been brought on as a programmer and to 'generally assist', and that he was happiest when he had pick-up work on the portal gun to fall back on.

She also knew that every time GLaDOS was activated, she threatened to kill them all in less than a second. That knowledge sat fearfully over her head all the time she spent in the facility. Part of her wondered why she didn't just quit and leave, but she knew she couldn't give up. Doug had spoken nervously about trying to sabotage the project, and she wanted to be there to support him if she could. They had toyed with the idea of getting Simon on board, but Chell had vehemently expressed her doubts that her dad would ever turn his back on his work. However much she wished it, it wasn't going to happen. Nothing short of causing him an accident that forced him to spend time away from work would be effective, and she didn't really want to go that drastically far.

Both she and Doug felt the weight of time pressing in on them, and it was making them both edgy, Doug more so than her. He was becoming increasingly paranoid, and she wasn't sure how to deal with it other than with calmness and common sense. But however much she tried to reason it out, she felt wary too. There were rumours that Black Mesa were talking about conducting several big experiments, so Aperture were pulling out all the stops to compete, trying to get GLaDOS working safely so they could claim glory first. Doug was concerned that they were cutting corners they shouldn't be cutting.

Then, inevitably, the crunch time came.

It began nonchalantly enough. Chell made it home on time for once, and was enjoying a relaxing evening with a movie while Emma was out with friends. Her peace was shattered by the shrill ring of the house phone. When she picked it up, she was stunned to hear her father's voice on the other end.

Pushing her surprise aside, she greeted him as pleasantly as possible. She still found it hard to forgive him for drugging her all those months ago.

"How are things?" he asked her, as if they chatted all the time rather than just a few times a month.

"Same old," she replied with a shrug. "You?"

"Not too bad," he said unconvincingly. "Listen, Chell…are you coming into work tomorrow?"

She frowned, tucking her feet up on the couch. "Yes, of course. I can't afford to be off!"

Her father paused for so long, she began to wonder if he'd hung up on her. Then, in a grim tone, he said quickly, "Take the day off."

Chell's frown deepened. "I can't do that, I've got stuff to do. It's Bring Your Cat To Work Day, and Marlene has all these stupid spreadsheets that she hasn't–"

"Chell, I'm serious. Don't come in. Just…trust me. Or…humour me. One of them."

"What's going on, Dad? And don't say 'nothing'."

He gave a heavy sigh, but didn't answer. Chell considered his request, how similar it was to one Doug had put before her only that afternoon. There was only one conclusion: GLaDOS was due another attempt at activation. She couldn't say a word about it, however. She still wasn't supposed to know.

 _What is it that's different this time that has them both so scared?_ she wondered. In Doug's case, she knew he had little faith in the failsafe that Henry had come up with to keep GLaDOS in line, but her father was a different matter. His loyalty to Aperture had never faltered.

"I can't tell you," her dad said eventually, the four words she was beginning to hate hearing. "Just trust me when I say that I'm thinking of you. Nothing is wrong. I mean, nothing _will_ go wrong, but I can't take that chance."

"And _I_ can't take a sick day on a whim," she fired back, losing patience. "If you're so sure that nothing will go wrong – whatever that means – then where's the problem?"

"Chell…"

"If you don't have anything more helpful to say, I'm going to go. I want an early night."

"Chell, please listen to me." His tone grew sharp. "For once, curb that pig-headedness of yours."

She was in no mood to be reprimanded on top of everything else. "Goodnight, Dad," she said simply, ending the call.

She half expected him to ring back, but the phone remained mercifully silent. Letting out a sigh, Chell studied the frozen figures on the TV, suddenly no longer interested in how their story resolved. She switched everything off and headed to bed, but it was a long time before she slept.

By daylight, however, she had all but forgotten the worry in her dad's voice, too wrapped up in her goals for the day. Her morning passed by in a rush, a succession of busy intervals accompanied by Wheatley's almost-constant chatter. She ate lunch at her desk before snatching five minutes to visit the bathroom, something that had been on her to-do list all morning.

She was just heading back to her office, crossly picking cat hair off her black suit jacket, when she was waylaid by a panicky Doug. With barely a word, he seized her arm in an iron grip and dragged her back down the corridor.

"Wait!" she called, trying not to stumble. "Doug, just...slow down! Let's talk."

"No time," he said through gritted teeth. "No time to get you out, either."

"What? Will you _please_...oh, for god's sake. Doug!"

They rounded the corner into another silent, empty corridor, and she finally wrenched her arm out his grasp.

"Doug, stop this!" she yelled. "Whatever it is, you're overreacting."

"I'm not!" he insisted, the grimness of his tone startling her.

He let out an irritated huff, running a hand through his hair. Chell folded her arms, happy to wait until he felt like speaking again.

"You weren't there," he said eventually, unable to meet her eyes. "You didn't hear what she said. She wants to perform the Schrödinger's Cat experiment, and Henry is giving her access to the neurotoxin generator. After everything that happened before, after everything they've done to try and keep her under control, keep her from killing us all…they'll undo all of it the moment she has access."

Chell felt a shiver of unease shoot up her spine. She swallowed and tried to maintain a rational tone. "But if she has that thing, the morality core thing...wasn't that supposed to stop her from doing stuff like that?"

"It won't be enough," he stated ominously. "I just...know it. Like I told Henry, the morality core is just a counterfeit conscience, and you can always ignore your conscience."

Chell said nothing. Despite her doubt, his words were ringing true. What she'd heard over the years did not fill her with confidence in GLaDOS's ability to run the entire facility safely. Part of the A.I. still remembered being Caroline, even if she wasn't consciously aware. Revenge was a powerful motivator, even for a being who wasn't human anymore. Giving her access to neurotoxin seemed unbelievably naive.

"If I hide you in a stasis pod," Doug went on, breaking through her thoughts, "you'd survive if she pumped neurotoxin through the vents."

"It wouldn't come to that, would it?" she asked, feeling the first stirring of fear in her gut. "I mean, last time they activated her, we evacuated, it was fine. And besides, what about you?"

Doug shook his head firmly. "We got lucky last time, we were fairly close to the surface. People died that day. It was hushed up, but… Look, I'll get myself to a pod, if it comes to it."

"This is crazy," Chell declared in a low voice, throwing up her hands.

He turned and met her gaze, his expression stricken. She saw his fear, his anger, and a trail of pain weaving its way between the two. He felt like a failure, she realised, because he hadn't been able to stop it.

"I can't just..." he began, his voice cracking. "Please. I can't lose you, Chell, you're too important to me."

She reached out, squeezing his shoulder. "You're not going to lose me."

He pulled her into a hug, holding her tight. She could feel how afraid he was in the fierceness of his grip. She clung back, trying to be reassuring, seeking reassurance in turn. Despite the bizarre circumstances, she found a fleeting sense of peace in the embrace, all the warmth, comfort and affection that she had come to associate with him, her closest friend. Perhaps now her _only_ friend, since she had lost touch with almost everyone else.

They'd never hugged before. It hadn't been necessary in their relationship. But Chell was suddenly struck with the feeling of wishing they had, wondering if either of them would be quite as jittery and anxious if they'd been more supportive to each other. She also couldn't help but wonder if he felt the same thing.

Her feelings were jumbled up in her head, like a tangled basket of yarn, with only one bright strand of clarity free from it all. She knew with absolute certainty that she'd do whatever she could to keep him from worrying any more than he already was. If that meant having a few hours of naptime in a stasis pod, then so be it.

"Okay," she said into his shoulder, "I'll do it. But you'd damn well better come and let me out when this madness is over."

"Yes," he agreed, not bothering to hide the relief in his voice.

Chell stepped back, assessing his expression to check that he meant it. He was genuine, but the apprehension and the trepidation were still visible.

"You're going to have to dress like a test subject," he told her. "So you blend in. Otherwise someone might wonder what you're doing there."

With a somewhat heavy feeling of resignation, she nodded. The test subjects' orange jumpsuits were too similar to prison uniforms for her liking. She didn't want to read too much into the symbolism, but it was hard not to. When she'd been rejected for testing, she'd been glad that she would never have to put one on.

Lightly running now, at Doug's insistence, they made their way to the wing known as Test Subject Storage, not a name that filled Chell with confidence. It just highlighted what she'd already suspected: that Aperture didn't class test subjects as people. Neither one of them spoke on the way, and the silence added to the tension of the situation.

With Doug's instructions to hurry echoing in her head, she quickly got changed in one of the dressing rooms, leaving her clothes in a locker. The floor was cold against her bare feet, and she tugged at the jumpsuit's cropped pants, feeling vulnerable in clothes that weren't her own, wishing she could wear shoes. She gathered her hair into a ponytail, scoffing at herself that she should be concerned about something so trivial.

Doug was waiting for her outside and he nodded grimly when she emerged. "I've found a spare pod," he said. "Come on."

Chell followed him wordlessly, her increasing anxiety bubbling under the surface of her calm exterior. They hurried down narrow paths between boxy rooms with glass walls, each containing a pod, most occupied by sleeping, orange-clad figures.

"What about you?" she asked.

"I found a pod in for repair in the maintenance room," he told her distractedly. "It still works, it's only in there because its seat padding is ripped, but it's not wired to the main grid. I'd be separate from the test subjects, so I can come and let you out when I wake up."

Chell nodded, although he didn't turn to see. The maintenance room was close to the door, easier to get to from the corridor if the worst happened. She could breathe a tiny bit easier with that in mind.

Doug halted outside chamber 1498 and pressed a sequence of keys on the monitor there. One of its glass walls slid up into the ceiling, leaving a clear path to the pod. It was smaller than she'd been hoping. She didn't suffer from claustrophobia, but she felt it tugging at her as she looked at the thing. She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat and took a single, tentative step forward.

"As soon as you can," she said, battling the tremor of apprehension in her voice. "Come and get me."

"I will," he assured at once.

Chell didn't look back, unable to take her eyes off the plastic bubble that would soon shut her off from the world.

"I've...I've deleted your surname," he said from behind her. "Just...you know...in case."

"Okay," she acknowledged, barely above a whisper.

She crossed the floor of the glass room, hearing Doug's cautious step following. He tapped a few keys on the pod and the domed lid rose up. Chell stared at it, all too aware of how clinical and coffin-like it was.

"Chell?" she heard Doug venture, his tone hesitant and more than a little afraid.

"What?"

There was a pause, and she wondered what kind of words he was fumbling for. Were they parting for a few hours, or for much longer? Was he exaggerating, or would she wake up to a very different facility? She glanced up into his face, taken aback by the sheer desperate earnestness of his expression. It was more than his paranoia. This was something more. Something he'd feared for a long time. He was terrified.

"Doug..." she began, unsure what she could really say to alleviate his fear.

He faced her square-on, gripping her shoulders. "If she's active when you wake," he said, and she opened her mouth to protest. "No, listen," he interrupted. "If she's active when you wake, just play along with whatever she wants you to do. Stay sharp, stay alive, and do not talk to her."

"What?"

"I mean it. She'll look for weaknesses, don't give her any ammunition, no matter how hard it seems."

Chell nodded meekly, his grim tone rendering her momentarily silent. "Won't she just...kill me?" she asked at length.

Doug paused, choosing his words carefully. "I...don't think so."

"You don't _think_ so?"

"She's programmed to want to do science, and for that she'll need test subjects. I think she'll keep you alive just so long as you test."

Praying to gods she didn't even believe in that he was wrong, Chell nodded once more.

Doug glanced nervously at his watch. "Two minutes," he muttered. "You'd better get in."

Reluctantly, she hopped up onto the pod's padded seat, tucking her legs up into it. Feeling like a first-time patient at the dentist, she lay back, folding her trembling hands over her stomach and gripping her fingers tight.

"I'll...see you soon," Doug said, trying to smile. It was a very poor effort.

"You'd better," Chell replied curtly.

He rested his hand briefly on top of her clasped ones, then withdrew and closed the bubble. It sealed off every sound and distorted every view, so that the entirety of Chell's world was the brightness of the lights in the ceiling, Doug's slightly fuzzy outline, and her own quick, noisy breathing. The pod smelled of chemicals, she reflected idly. Then came the subtle hiss of gas, her eyelids became heavy, and her tiny world went black.

* * *

Alarms were sounding off everywhere, the corridors bathed in the eerie red emergency lights. Everyone was fighting their way to the elevators, their panicked voices filling the corridors with indecipherable cries, shouting to block out GLaDOS's calm ramblings that echoed over the speakers. Doug was the only one running in the opposite direction, and no matter how hard he tried, nobody else listened enough to go with him. He forced himself to keep going, to ignore the yells of his co-workers as they saw him heading off. GLaDOS needed to be stopped, and for that to happen, he needed to survive.

She had performed the Schrödinger's Cat experiment, just as she'd promised. Her chamber had become a cat slaughterhouse as, one after another, the beloved pets of twelve screaming employees had been sacrificed for science. The scientists had tried to reach them, but found themselves held back by moving floor panels. They tried to reach the shutdown button, only to find that she'd discovered how to keep them from that too. Finally, they tried to reach the red phone, to dial the emergency number. She kept them from that as well. It was at that point that Doug, standing strategically by the door, had bolted.

GLaDOS declared the entire facility a huge Schrödinger's Cat experiment, thanked them for their participation, then bid them goodbye. At that point, the neurotoxin began to flow and people started to run.

Holding his breath for as long as he could, Doug sprinted into Test Subject Storage, skidding to a halt inside the maintenance office adjoining the main room. Working quicker than he ever had in his life, Doug powered up the broken pod, programming it to wake him in two days. He was grateful that it wouldn't be on the same grid as the test subjects' pods. He didn't want to be noticed at all. By the time he was done, he was starting to see bright spots dancing in the forefront of his vision. The room had turned hazy with sickly green gas.

He lifted the bubble and clambered into the pod. Leaning out to tap the last few keys on its panel, he let the lid close. There was an excruciating moment of waiting while the pod pumped out the mixture of air and neurotoxin that had entered with him, then, finally, the cool spray of the oxygen and sleep gas canisters. He breathed deeply, not minding the chemical aftertaste, just pleased to be able to fill his lungs again. Then, like Chell before him, he succumbed to the sedative, falling into a dreamless sleep.

Two days later, he woke to find that Aperture Laboratories had become a facility-wide graveyard.

* * *

 **A/N:** So GLaDOS is finally in charge. I decided to incorporate Bring Your Cat To Work Day, which is mentioned in Lab Rat, as it seems a likely time for GLaDOS's takeover, particularly if you look at how worried Doug looks in that scene.


	11. The Trials of Rattmann

**A/N:** I should probably give a warning here that this chapter contains mild horror elements. Nothing major but...well, GLaDOS _did_ kill pretty much everyone...

Thanks to T.C.C for the lovely review. I'm glad you're enjoying the story :) I'm afraid the cats had to be sacrificed for plot (and the fact that GLaDOS says she has a new cat graveyard), which sucks. I love cats!

* * *

 **2007.  
The Trials of Rattmann.**

When the lid of his pod opened, the first thing Doug noticed was the silence. The second was the darkness. The facility was still on emergency lighting, the majority of its corridors bathed in bright ruby or dim, buttery yellow.

He shifted out of the pod, taking wary sniffs of the air. The neurotoxin had dispersed. GLaDOS probably wouldn't have bothered to pump it out of the facility, but there was so much space for it to spread to, it had faded itself out.

He didn't feel like he'd been unconscious for two days. In fact, he barely felt rested at all, his lingering apprehension and fear pumping adrenaline through his veins. Mind buzzing, he crossed the room to the door, peering out into Test Subject Storage. The glass rooms were lit only by the clinical green glow emanating from the stasis pods. He walked quickly to box 1498, eyes skimming the panel. Chell was still alive. He let out a shaky breath, the relief causing him to momentarily sag against the wall.

Hauling himself upright again, he tapped the sequence of keys to release her, only to find a disgruntled red light flashing up bearing an 'access denied' message. Any relief he'd felt dissipated at once. Just to make sure he hadn't made a mistake, he tried again. Still locked. GLaDOS had changed the code sequence.

Doug ran a hand through his hair, thinking rapidly. Pro: Chell was safe, for the moment. Pro: She was of use to GLaDOS, so there was every reason she'd stay alive. Con: If he couldn't get her out of there, she might be stuck there forever. Con: If GLaDOS decided to move her to the Long-Term Relaxation Centre, he'd have no hope of getting her out at all.

In a fit of anger, he banged a fist into the glass. The dull noise echoed around the silent room. His hand ached and the glass was solid. It was Aperture glass, built to withstand almost anything short of a small explosion. Without a sledgehammer, at the very least, he was helpless. Chell would have to remain where she was.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

She lay motionless, like Snow White in her glass coffin.

"I'll find a way," he went on. "I'll take her down. Whatever it takes."

With one last glance at Chell's peaceful face, he walked away, convinced he was leaving part of himself behind with her; the part of him that had been a normal, problem-free person. That was how she made him feel. He couldn't help feeling that he was leaving Doug-the-friend behind him, continuing onwards simply as Rattmann-the-scientist. He shoved his observations aside and kept walking.

There were security cameras all over the facility that GLaDOS would now have access to. He needed to avoid those as much as possible. He needed to find somewhere safe to sit, rest and form a plan. The only place that sprang to mind was his old lab, where he'd built the portal device. It wasn't perfect, but it was a start.

Warily, he set off, occasionally hugging walls to slip under cameras unnoticed. The corridors were better lit, and were strangely empty until he ventured down to the other levels. Opting not to take the elevator, he forced the doors open and climbed down the shaft using the maintenance ladder instead. Fortunately, the doors were all labelled with floor numbers, so he knew when to leave. Balancing precariously on the ladder, he dug his car keys into the tiny gap between the doors, levering them open a crack. He peered through, reminding himself where there were cameras placed. When he was satisfied that it was safe, he squeezed through the widening space and emerged, achy and trembling, in the corridor.

The sight before him made him halt in his tracks. The floor was littered with bodies, a winding trail of white coats leading away from the elevator that they'd clearly been trying to reach. Limbs shaking, Doug backed up against the doors that had closed behind him, taking deep, clumsy breaths. The cynical side of him had been expecting something similar, but to actually see it...

His vision swam, and he crouched down, putting his head between his knees. The last thing he needed was to pass out from a panic attack. His sight cleared, and he studied the scuffs on his shoes, trying to calm down.

 _You're okay,_ he told himself firmly. _You'll be all right. Focus._

"Think like a scientist, dammit," he murmured crossly.

Cautiously, he raised his head. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he crawled to the nearest corpse, that of a middle-aged man, and rolled him onto his back. It was someone he didn't know, which helped. Shoving his nausea to the back of his thoughts, Doug examined the body. The man's skin was pasty white, but for the blue shadows around his eyes and the faint lines of veiny green around his mouth. Aperture's brand of neurotoxin was nasty stuff. The effects were less obvious on those of darker skin tone, but their expressions were just as horrific.

Doug grimaced and stood up. He made slow progress down the corridor, treading carefully so as to not step on anyone. The further he went, the fewer bodies there were, and he breathed a little easier. Eventually, he reached ASHPD Development, where he halted, struck by a sudden dilemma. If he swiped his I.D. card to let himself in, there was a chance that GLaDOS would then know who and where he was. That thought was not a comforting one. On the other hand, he couldn't remain in the corridor indefinitely, and he very much doubted that he'd be able to break through the door manually.

An idea struck him, one he immediately wanted to dismiss, but he knew there was no other option. Biting down his feelings of horror and guilt, he jogged back down the corridor to the fallen scientists and started collecting I.D. cards of level ten or above, whispering apologies as he went. If he had to swipe the cards, at least he'd be someone else every time.

Safely hidden in the lab, Doug cleared the screensaver from the computer and began to try and get some idea of how much control GLaDOS had. The first thing he established was that the facility was in total lockdown. He'd expected that, but he still felt his heart sink into his shoes. She wouldn't make escaping easy, he was certain of that.

He pulled up the maps, only to frown in confusion when he saw that some of them had altered. Belatedly, he recalled that they were designed to update automatically when GLaDOS came online, to save time in the future when Aperture inevitably renovated. She was rearranging whole areas of the facility. From what he could gather from the maps, she was building more test chambers. The most recent product to be unveiled for testing was the ASHPD, and it seemed that GLaDOS had taken that on board wholeheartedly. Doug couldn't see a single testing track designed for any other product.

 _Well there wouldn't be_ , he reflected inwardly. _She won't move onto anything else until she's exhausted everything the portal gun can do. That's what she's designed for._

He sat back in his chair, cupping his chin in one hand as he thought. At least she appeared to have stopped trying to kill everyone. Morbidly, he had to conclude that that was because the vast majority of people were already dead, but it looked as if their failsafe was working to an extent. He and Robert, another programmer working on GLaDOS, had come up with something to keep her focus on science, something that Robert had enthusiastically named a Euphoric Testing Response. It was designed to work in the way that the strongest motivation, the most promising inspiration, worked on humans: to make her need to test more than anything else. Doug had been wary about the effect this would have on the welfare of the test subjects, but he'd been hopeful that GLaDOS would choose science over killing. Unfortunately, she seemed to have turned killing _into_ science.

Thinking of his dead co-workers outside made his heart flutter with the first stirrings of a panic attack. Tears pricked his eyes as he struggled to breathe at a steady pace, and he rapidly blinked them back. He didn't have time to give in to his anxiety.

Determinedly turning his attention back to the matter at hand, he considered what he was going to do. There was so much to figure out, it was starting to give him a headache. He got up and moved to sit at the workbench. For the next twenty minutes, he channelled his nervous energy and scribbled madly on sheets of paper. He made lists of goals, lists of plans, lists of equipment he'd need, lists of places he'd need to visit, anything that he thought might be useful. With everything written down, be began to feel more in control of the whirlwind of thoughts currently resident in his brain. Tucking his pen behind his ear, he pulled the list of equipment to the top of the pile, reading it through.

'Food,' he'd written at the top, underlined. 'Meds. Tools. Paper and pens. Flashlight. Spare clothes? Reference books?'

Underneath, he'd scribbled: 'Enough medication for 42 days.'

That was one of his major concerns. He hadn't lived without medication for years, he didn't know what sort of state he'd be in when it filtered out of his system. He didn't think he'd lose sight of his goals, but he was likely to be much more distracted. His head would be a much busier place. He'd just have to make the 42 days count.

Scrubbing his face with his hands, he gave himself a shake, prepping himself to begin the tasks he had ahead of him. Getting to his feet, he scoured the lab for useful items, collecting them all on the workbench. He piled up his toolbox, the few clean shirts and underwear he had left, cans of soda, a couple of snack cakes he liked to call Aperture Twinkie rip-offs, paper, pens, and his Art Therapy book. The latter wasn't really necessary, but Doug had a feeling he was going to need it, especially when his medication ran out.

Still figuring out how he was going to manage to carry everything, he emptied the trash can that sat under his desk and pulled out the bag that lined it. He threw everything in, tied a loose knot at the top and slung it over his shoulder, testing the weight. It would work as a temporary solution. Once he found a more secure place to make camp, he would work out a more permanent way of carrying what he scavenged. It wouldn't hurt to search the other offices and the cafeterias, if he could get to them. He'd need to do that within a week, before food started to go off, although the Aperture branded stuff seemed to last forever.

Taking a final look around, Doug decided to move on to the next office. He wanted more supplies before he ventured down to the breaker room beneath GLaDOS's chamber. He felt sure that it wouldn't be an easy journey. Without elevators, it was a long way.

He headed for the door. The handle moved, but nothing happened. A cold stab of fear shot through his heart, an icicle through his ribcage.

"I can't see you," came a melodic, robotic voice from the speakers in the corridor outside, "but I know you're in there, Rosemary. I've been wondering how long it would take you to realise that you're locked in. What _are_ you doing in there anyway?"

Doug backed away from the door, looking down at his collection of I.D. cards. There it was, Rosemary Wilson, Marketing Department. He dropped it like it had burned him, eyes frantically searching the room for another way out.

"Why don't you just come out? Here, I'll unlock the door for you."

He didn't answer, and he certainly didn't test to see if she _had_ unlocked the door. As far as he was concerned, the corridor was now a no-go area. He wasn't taking any chances.

Doug hopped up onto the workbench and ran his fingers around the edge of the ceiling tiles. As he'd suspected, they were loose-fitting, cheap ones, and they lifted easily at his touch, revealing a maze of pipework above. He didn't trust his weight to the tiles, so he hoped that the pipes were sturdier.

"Oh wait," GLaDOS said, managing to be surprisingly expressive through her monotonous tone, "you're _not_ Rosemary. Rosemary's dead."

Doug didn't waste time wondering how she knew that, but hurriedly tugged off his tie, knotting the two ends together. Retying the knot at the top of the trash bag around the tie, he slung his makeshift bag strap over his head, shifting it across his body. It was probably heavier than the thin plastic of the trash bag could cope with, but it would do for a short time.

"So, if you're not Rosemary, who are you?" the A.I. went on.

After a couple of ungainly jumps, Doug managed to grab hold of the pipes. With red-faced effort, he hauled himself up into the ceiling.

 _I really need to get fitter_ , he mused distractedly. If GLaDOS insisted on chasing him all over the facility, he suspected that he'd be pretty fit soon enough.

He balanced precariously on top of the pipes and began to awkwardly crawl through the low, narrow space, wincing at the loud rustling the trash bag made. Time crawled with him. He kept going until his hands and knees had gone numb, until he could no longer hear her voice, and he had no idea where he was. Just as he was considering pausing to look down and figure out his location, the space opened out into an upward shaft.

Taking it as a sign, Doug wobbled to his feet, holding onto the vertical pipes for balance. His knees cracked in protest. He stood there for a moment, regaining the feeling in his hands and legs. Then, when he felt able, he began to climb up. There were plenty of horizontal pipes and valves for him to step on, so it was relatively easy going, as scaling maintenance tunnels went.

He emerged in a wider space with a more solid-looking floor. Like the rest of the area, it too was bathed in red light. He scrambled up, pulling the thankfully-intact trash bag with him. Keeping alert for GLaDOS's voice, he travelled the length of the new tunnel, which led, eventually, to an air conditioning vent. Doug eyed the small space warily, but saw no other option. Pushing the bag ahead of him, he wormed his way through until he came across a grate in the floor. He glanced through it and was relieved to see another office below. He wrenched the grate up, with help from a screwdriver from the toolbox, and shoved the bag through the gap. It fell with a loud, obtrusive crashing sound and he cringed. No voice rang out, however, so he followed it down, landing in a quiet crouch.

The office was deserted, its monitors displaying the amber-coloured Aperture screensaver. Half-drunk mugs of coffee sat on the desk, and the chairs lay on the ground, tipped over from someone's hasty exit. Doug bent down and righted one, sitting heavily with a sigh. Leaning his elbows on his knees, he rested his head in his hands.

As he had done many times over the past few hours, he wished that Chell had listened to him and hadn't come in for Bring Your Cat To Work Day. He'd tried to explain that GLaDOS had been planning something, but he hadn't had ample time to get his point across. At least Chell had some anonymity, for a while anyway. He doubted there were any other employees with her first name, so it probably wouldn't take GLaDOS long to figure out who she was, but at least she could stay hidden for a short time.

He cracked open a can of soda, in need of a sugar boost. His watch told him it was 8:17, but he had no way of knowing if that was morning or evening. He wanted to make at least _some_ progress towards the breaker room before he slept, but for that, he needed to work out where he was. At the back of his mind, he was painfully aware that he was already feeling the ache of isolation, and he worried about how that would affect his already-fragile mentality. No doubt he'd find out soon enough.

* * *

Footsteps echoing, Doug sprinted for his life, thundering along the gantry below GLaDOS's chamber. The breaker room had been a trap, and he'd stupidly walked right into it. She had guessed his plans. Why hadn't he considered that she would safeguard the location of her kill-switch? She was far from stupid, _of course_ she would have protected it. He felt beyond foolish.

"You can have points for effort, I suppose," GLaDOS intoned. "Although I'll be subtracting points for stupidity and obviousness, so that will just put you down to minus figures. It's probably not even worth keeping track, trust me."

Doug snorted at her choice of phrase. She was the least trustworthy entity he'd ever come across.

"And, of course, I now know who you are, Douglas. You've failed at everything you've tried to do. I really wouldn't bother running."

He ignored her, taking the stairs three at a time and turning a sharp left. The door ahead would be locked, he was sure.

"It's not nice, you know," she went on conversationally. "To go to all the trouble of waking me up, only to try and shut me down again. You should come and join the others."

"What others?" he panted, against his better judgement.

"The others who helped build me. I have them all right here. Except for you."

"They're _alive_?" he exclaimed, immediately thinking of Henry, Robert, and Chell's father, Simon.

Doug crashed against the door, trying despite his suspicions. It _was_ locked. Not daring to pause too long, he vaulted over the side of the gantry, landing clumsily on the floor below. He tried to roll with the momentum, but found the breath knocked out of him regardless. Wincing, he stood up and carried on running, his goal now the hanging cables in the far corner of the room. He darted away, out of the shadow of GLaDOS's chamber. Dozens of criss-crossing walkways above cast shadows on the dull metal floor.

"How should I know?" she said calmly. "Until I open the box. But considering that the probability of neurotoxin filling all available air space in the box is one-hundred percent, well...you do the math. You _can_ do math, can't you? Or is that beyond you too?"

Feeling slightly sick, Doug continued running. He'd always known that the outer chamber was a vast, cavernous space, but he'd never really appreciated that fact until he'd been forced to sprint across half of it.

"Where exactly do you think you're going? There's nothing but wall there, you know. But by all means inspect it close-up. Preferably at high velocity. With your head."

Twenty metres. Ten. Five. One.

Doug leapt forward, grabbing the cables with both hands. Ignoring the strain on his arms, he began to shimmy up, his progress slow, but fuelled by adrenaline and desperation.

"Oh," GLaDOS spoke up, and Doug wasn't sure how to interpret it.

He forced himself to keep going until he drew level with one of the walkways. Pushing off from the wall, he swung until he could grasp the railings. Muscles trembling, he let go of the cable and climbed up onto the walkway. Luck was on his side for once. There was no door for her to lock, as the narrow bridge continued through to the next room. He pelted down it without a backward glance, crossing yet another tall room topped with yet more walkways.

He had a choice of left or right once he reached the end of the bridge. Without putting too much thought into it, he darted left. He was in a maintenance area, noisy with the sound of pistons and machinery. Feeling exposed, Doug searched for a safer place to go. An opportunity presented itself in the form of a large, open vent. He shot inside. There was a tiny space beyond, barely big enough to be called a room, but it was enclosed and dimly-lit, and he felt a touch safer than he had outside. He crouched against the wall, trying to get his breath back. His body felt as if it was made of nothing but burning muscles and taut lungs.

"This isn't over," came GLaDOS's voice, tinny over the poor-quality speakers. It made her seem further away, which Doug was certainly not complaining about.

He let himself collapse, sprawling in a heap while he listened to his heavy breathing.

"You'll show yourself again sometime," she went on. "And I can wait. So feel free to scuttle off and hide, Rattmann. Or should I say Rat Man? Ha ha."

"Bite me," he murmured bitterly.

Her voice faded into silence and Doug shut his eyes. He'd messed up big time, and he needed a drastic strategy rethink. His determination still pushed him onwards, but he was beginning to fear that he was out of his depth. He had no idea how to shut her down if not from the breaker room. And he only had 36 days' worth of medication left. Pessimism set up residence, cold and heavy in the pit of his stomach. In the stillness of that tiny, hidden room, he finally admitted to himself that he didn't know what to do. The silence swirled around him, mockingly free of answers. Doug rolled over, hiding his face in his arms, and cried angry, hopeless tears until he fell into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

 **A/N:** Next chapter we'll be in Lab Rat territory, which should be interesting. As always, go find me on Deviant Art as Sweet-Christabel to check out my illustrations for this story :)


	12. Birth of the Rat Man

**A/N:** So here we are in Lab Rat territory. Any dialogue you recognise comes from there :)

* * *

 **2007.  
Birth of the Rat Man. **

It hadn't taken long for Doug to accept that he needed help. As far as he knew, the only people still alive were the test subjects. He'd spent several days running, dodging barbed comments from GLaDOS whenever he was careless enough to attract her attention, trying to get to a number of helpful locations. She wasn't making it easy for him. Various parts of the facility that she had total control over had been remodelled, becoming an intricate series of testing tracks. Fortunately for Doug, her control didn't stretch to the majority of the offices, or the many maintenance areas throughout the facility. _Un_ fortunately, there were cameras everywhere, some of them unavoidable. His collection of supplies had gradually increased, and he'd been able to rig up a makeshift slingshot. Although his aim was still improving, he'd been able to shatter quite a few of the camera lenses he met on his travels. She scolded him every single time. He was growing to hate it.

He'd started leaving graffiti and murals in any camps he made, trying to keep track of places he'd already been. It was an effective strategy, and he was finding the process helpful. He was increasingly glad that he'd thought to bring the Art Therapy book from the lab.

Occasionally he'd found an Aperture motivational poster or two, and he'd spent a few satisfying moments defacing them with sarcastic comments, sometimes, when he was feeling particularly bitter, putting them up where GLaDOS's cameras would see them. They were petty, small victories, but he savoured them. They were all he had. Achieving anything more would take time, and time was something he was fast running out of. He only had a few days of clear-headedness left.

He needed more help. He needed an ally who would be strong enough to see the task through, who would be intelligent and moral enough to see that it _had_ to be done. His first thought, of course, was Chell, but he couldn't stand the idea of putting her in danger. She was probably better off where she was for the time being. But it left him stumped as to how to a) find someone with the qualities he needed, and b) get them out of stasis so that they could actually help.

Cautiously, Doug edged his way along a corridor wall, peering around the corner to check the location of the next camera. He was trying to get to Test Subject Observation and Care, hoping that there would be something there that would be useful. Either information or a control panel would suit him.

There was nothing for it, he was going to have to dash past the camera. He took a breath, pushed away from the wall and ran. He'd left his supplies back at his current camp, so at least he was running light.

"Hello, Rat Man," GLaDOS said at once.

"Don't start," Doug spat.

His advice to Chell not to talk to the A.I. seemed more sensible by the minute. Pity that he wasn't able to follow it himself.

 _Hypocrite_ , he scolded inwardly.

"Good news," she went on, as if he hadn't spoken. "The Enrichment Centre would like to announce a new employee initiative of forced voluntary participation. If any Aperture Science employee would like to opt out of this new voluntary testing program, please remember, science rhymes with compliance."

Doug shot a sharp-eyed look at the camera as he shot underneath it.

"Do you know what doesn't rhyme with compliance?" she asked pleasantly. "Neurotoxin."

He ground his teeth against another ill-advised reply. The department door was locked, which was unsurprising. With a determined sort of calm, he pulled a screwdriver from his sleeve and set about rewiring the keypad next to it. Even if she did fire up the neurotoxin, he'd have a few minutes before it reached him.

GLaDOS didn't seem to mind his lack of response, continuing her speech in her usual unruffled manner. "Due to high mortality rates, you may be reluctant to participate in the new initiative. The Enrichment Centre assures you this is a strictly selfish impulse on your part and why can't you love science like [insert co-worker's name here]?"

Doug frowned as he worked. She had been talking a lot more lately, goading him, mentioning things about her behaviour on Bring Your Cat To Work Day. He wasn't sure whether she knew he'd been there and seen it all first-hand, but he wasn't about to enlighten her. Perhaps she was simply aware that he was beginning to hate the sound of her voice. Sometimes he wished they hadn't locked away the part of her that was Caroline, her memories and the elements of her personality that hadn't made it into GLaDOS. He suspected that he could have reasoned with Caroline if she had retained her human rationality. After all, he'd never known her in person, so she couldn't blame him for what had happened to her. In theory, at least.

"And now there's just you," GLaDOS pointed out. "All the others are dead. You've avoided capture for weeks. What makes you so different?"

He didn't answer, rifling through the wires by the door. His jaw was clenched tight, his posture tense.

GLaDOS, meanwhile, was theatrically making a discovery that he was pretty sure she already knew. "Ahh...delusions of persecution, pathological paranoia: it's all right here in your file." A touch of slyness seeped into her mechanical tone. "Have you refilled your prescription lately?"

"Bite me," he retorted curtly. She'd touched a nerve.

"Schizophrenia is a culturally bound phenomenon," she told him with a tone of academic interest. "Its pattern of expression is filtered through the cultural substrate in which its symptoms develop. In technological societies, this manifests as delusions of surveillance and a belief that advanced technology is deployed against you, usually with some vague unseen 'other' out to get you."

"You're not vague," he scoffed. "You're pretty damn specific."

She ignored his comment, warning lightly, "If you continue to selfishly evade me, it's not going to reflect well in your file."

A lightbulb ignited in his head. "Of course!" he muttered. "The files!"

Leaving the keypad hanging off the wall by its wires, Doug leapt to his feet and jogged back the way he'd come. The file room next to Lazarus Grey's office was the ideal place to find out who would be suitable to help him. There were employee and test subject records in there, and what was more, GLaDOS had no control in that part of the facility. He knew for a fact that none of the offices there had cameras in them.

He'd gotten pretty good at navigating the place while keeping out of her sight, choosing to creep behind the walls or in the ceiling rather than taking his chances in the corridors. He only had a short length of carpet to cross before he was able to duck into the air conditioning vents.

GLaDOS remained mercifully silent as he crawled his way through the bowels of the facility. For a moment, he knew he'd lost her. The problem this time was that she knew where he was going.

Sure enough, as soon as he kicked out the grid of the air con and listened to it clang to the ground, her voice started up again, echoing along the empty corridor outside.

"I can't see you, but I know you're in there," she announced as he dropped to the floor in the file room. "Is it just coincidence that you've been diagnosed with schizophrenia and now believe a homicidal computer is out to get you? Come on, how likely is _that_?"

Doug ignored her, beginning what looked to be a long search through the records. Chell had organised it all during her time with the company, splitting the records into logical sections. One for current employees, one for past employees, one for test subjects. Doug headed straight for the test subject cabinet, pulling out the entire contents. Methodically, he worked his way through them, skimming the details, then dropping the files back in the cabinet when they inevitably weren't suitable.

GLaDOS kept up her stream of chatter while he looked, not allowing him to forget about her for a single moment. "I mean really, you're a scientist," she berated him. "What is more likely, that you're being chased by a homicidal computer, or that this is all just the paranoid delusion of an unstable mind?"

Doug paused, lowering the file he was reading. He shook his head, looking away, grimly clenching his teeth. She was right, ironically. But he wasn't delusional, he knew that for certain. He'd had too many years of Aperture's madness to not be painfully aware that sometimes truth was stranger than fiction.

GLaDOS's voice turned gently cajoling. "Why not come out of there and you'll see. None of this is real."

 _If only that were so_ , he reflected sadly.

"I'd ask you to think outside the box on this, but it's obvious your box is broken. And has schizophrenia," she added spitefully.

Giving himself a shake, Doug forced his concentration back on the files, trying not to accept how mind-numbing it was to read the same things over and over again.

"Speaking of boxes..." GLaDOS said, as he fought hard to tune her out. "Do you know that thought experiment with the cat in the box with the poison? Theory requires the cat be both alive and dead until observed. Well, I actually performed the experiment. Dozens of times. The bad news is that reality doesn't exist. The good news is we have a new cat graveyard."

He allowed himself a moment to roll his eyes, refusing to be bullied into speaking. Whether she knew he'd been present during her activation or not, her speech was yet another attempt to put him off his guard.

"Why are you in the file room anyway?" she asked, at long last sounding annoyed. "What could you possibly be doing?"

A scribbled comment in the latest file he was flicking through caught his eye: 'Test subject is abnormally stubborn. She never gives up. Ever.'

"Yes!" he hissed excitedly. "This is the one!"

Hope surged, and he tugged the rest of the page out to see the name at the top. His heart plummeted like a stone. It was Chell's file. Of course it was.

He put it to one side, vehemently shaking his head. He would _not_ put her through that. He refused.

GLaDOS, seemingly not discouraged by his lack of communication, continued her torrent of speech while he went back to searching. He truly had stopped listening now, too intent on finding a suitable ally who wasn't his best friend. The closer he got to the bottom of the pile, the more he began to realise the way things were going. He remained in denial for as long as he could, but eventually he admitted hopeless defeat, dropping the last folder back in the filing cabinet.

Leaning his elbows on top of the cabinet, he pressed his fingertips to his eyes.

 _No. I won't do it. There_ has _to be someone else_ , he ranted in his head. But he already knew the truth, perhaps had known it before he even started searching. There was no one else.

Finally he opened his eyes, covering his mouth with one hand as he strove for another solution one last time. Heartsick, beaten, he placed his palms flat on the surface of the filing cabinet, head bowed. His promise to Chell, whispered through the glass walls of her relaxation pod, floated back to him.

 _"I'll find a way. I'll take her down. Whatever it takes."_

Whatever it takes.

 _It's no good_ , he thought. Out loud, he murmured, "It has to be her."

With it spoken aloud, his resolve settled around him like a cloak, and he chided himself for even considering that it _wouldn't_ continue to be the two of them against Aperture Science, the way it had always been.

The fact that he was about to put the one person he truly cared about in the entire facility through a manipulative ordeal did not sit well with him. Only the thought of what Chell would say if he could ask her kept him resolute. She would want to help, as she always did, and he knew she'd scold him for trying to protect her.

Along with the realisation, came the knowledge of how to get her where she needed to be. Once GLaDOS had built enough test chambers, she'd want to start testing. He needed to make sure that Chell was the first one to be woken. If he could find a way into certain parts of the tests, away from the security cameras, he could leave her warnings and advice, maybe even point her in the right direction. He knew now, although he wasn't sure how, that he needed to bring Chell face to faceplate with GLaDOS. That thought terrified him more than anything else, but he had a hunch that it was the only way to get close enough to the powerful A.I. to take action. He couldn't get there himself. He knew GLaDOS would never accept him as a test subject after he'd been involved in building her.

Resolved, yet anxious and unhappy, Doug sat down at the computer in one corner of the file room. He accessed the list of test subjects, automatically updated from the control panels on the relaxation pods. With a jolt, he realised he recognised some of the names on there. Lazarus Grey was test subject 2, his co-worker Robert was number 4, and he spotted Marlene placed as subject 16. Somehow, others besides him had survived, only to be captured as test subjects for their own tests. It was as ironic as it was horrific. He couldn't see Lazarus, who played his role of stern, delegating CEO with relish, getting very far as a test subject. They would all die if the plan failed.

Doug ran a search for 'Simon', just in case, but Chell's father wasn't among the names it selected. He thought it was a long shot, but he owed it to her to check. He opened the search bar up again and quickly typed her name. There she was, number 1498, next to Doug Hopper, the employee that her father had never liked. He selected her name and dragged it upwards. The scrolling page blurred past, too fast to read, until she was at the top. Test subject number 1, Chell, surname redacted.

His fingers hovered over the keys, his heart beating almost audibly in his chest at the thought of what he was about to do. Last chance to turn back.

 _I can't._

He hit Ctrl S and the file saved. Down in Test Subject Storage, he knew that her pod number would be updating itself. It was done. He'd either saved them all, or doomed her to die.

The guilt made him feel physically sick, and he had to force himself to leave the room before he could change his mind. As he crawled back through the vents, he fought to focus on other things, and began the steady process of building up his strategy.

* * *

Doug stared at the tiny scrap of paper, a self-made label that read: 'For the end times'. Grimly, he taped it to the small plastic bottle, listening to the two precious capsules rattling around inside. He placed the bottle in an empty locker, closing the door on it firmly before taping yet another piece of paper, this one saying boldly: 'Do not open'. He stuck it to the locker door, gave a single satisfied nod, then left the room.

He'd pulled down all the cameras in the corridor, so he had nothing to fear as he walked. He'd taken to doing that now, and he was building up quite a collection of them. He hid a lot of them in the rooms he discovered behind the walls of the test chambers, hoping they would serve as a warning to Chell when she passed through. He had no way of knowing which testing course GLaDOS would put her through, so he left warnings in as many places as he could get to, while he still had the clarity of mind to do so.

Apart from the two capsules he'd just left in the locker for when he really needed them, he had enough medication for another four days. He was starting to get edgy, dreading what would happen when he ran out completely. But it didn't help to dwell on it, he knew that. It was inevitable. He just had to find a way to cope.

What also didn't help was the remorse he continued to feel about his plans to manipulate Chell into defeating GLaDOS. Even the thought that she'd volunteer in a heartbeat if she could was no comfort. In an attempt to distance himself, he'd tried to train himself not to think of her as his friend, to simply refer to her as 'the girl' and focus on her role as a test subject. It was proving difficult, though. She was ingrained in his thoughts about Aperture, as they'd spent so much time together discussing what they'd found. It would get easier with time. Part of him hoped so, anyway, because he wasn't sure he could deal with the gnawing guilt indefinitely. Another part of him felt that he deserved to feel it.

There was very little he could do now except survive. Survive and wait. When GLaDOS woke her up, he would be needed again. Until then, he would keep out of sight, hidden, like a rat.


	13. The End Times

**A/N:** Updating on a Monday because yesterday was a mad rush of Christmas shopping and laundry, followed by a birthday dinner for my Mum. Hopefully no one minds too much :)

More Lab Rat material here, although I made minor changes to the dialogue to better fit the timing of events. Again, anything you recognise doesn't belong to me.

* * *

 **2010.  
The End Times. **

It had taken months of practice for Doug to detach, to stop thinking of her as Chell and refer to her as 'the girl'. She was not a woman he'd known for years, she was test subject number 1. She was not his friend, she was the one who would stop GLaDOS. In the increasingly-rare moments when he slipped and remembered who she was, he was surprised at how convincingly he'd forgotten her. He needed to, though, and that was why he could. He couldn't afford to remember how he felt about her, because if he did, he'd never be able to keep her on her path. His plan wasn't perfect. In fact, he'd say it was decidedly hole-ridden, with a very small chance of success. That chance - the _only_ chance - was her.

He'd seen her so many times over the years. She was by far the most peaceful and the most welcome of his hallucinations. She would smile at him encouragingly, but she never spoke. When he stumbled across a lonely companion cube that had somehow escaped the incinerator, he understood why: the cube had stolen her voice.

"Why do you use it?" he'd asked.

"Because it was available," the cube had replied, as if that settled the matter.

Although it disturbed him a little, Doug didn't press it too much. He was too grateful to have a companion again, even if it was just a cube. The rational part of his mind remained surprisingly self-aware after his medication ran out. He knew that his friend was just a cube, he _knew_ it wasn't really talking, but it didn't make it any less comforting or credible. Knowing that his hallucinations weren't real didn't make them any less terrifying either. And, of course, there was still _Her_.

Over the years, he had successfully avoided GLaDOS for months at a time. As he grew used to finding his way around out of her sight, he lived in relative peace away from her taunting voice. The food he'd stolen from the cafeteria expired after the first year. Now he was living mostly on tinned beans that he managed to heat up on modified computer parts. It was a decidedly boring diet that his body didn't appreciate much, but it kept him alive. Judging by the huge stockpile he had, it would keep him alive for several more years yet. He'd been lucky enough to find one of the store rooms, and it had kept him supplied with many essentials: beans, cartons of insanely-long-life milk, huge bottles of water that were meant for the coolers in the offices, soap, toothpaste and toilet roll. He also had a healthy supply of first aid kits for emergencies. He hadn't had to use them much, thankfully, despite the turrets that GLaDOS occasionally left around, presumably in the hope that he'd wander into their path.

For a man who was not a natural survivor, he'd done quite well for himself. He'd made a sling-like, long-handled bag that he used to carry the cube and his supplies on his back. It left his hands free for climbing, which he found himself doing most days, and allowed him to spread the weight evenly. He never went anywhere without it, not wanting to be parted from the cube, his precious Art Therapy book, or the girl's file.

He'd been imagining what it would be like, to have her free him and the others from GLaDOS. He'd discovered a small, empty room that he'd dedicated to murals depicting the A.I.'s rise and forthcoming defeat. Progress had been slow, but he'd managed to cover every wall but one. Even the ceiling had an image on it: a non-technical diagram of the phases of the moon.

"What will you put on that blank wall?" the cube asked him.

"I don't know yet."

"What about a portrait? You know, of the girl."

That idea did sound appealing, but he wasn't sure he wanted to attempt it. He wasn't confident that he'd portray her properly.

In his peripheral vision, he saw her step up to his side, leaning casually against the wall. Doug didn't look at her, didn't give the hallucinations the power to affect him. Even out of the corner of his eye, she was disturbingly real. She was leaning in the wet paint, however, a sure sign – if he needed one – that she wasn't.

"Maybe," he muttered, adding details to the portal device that a stick-figure version of himself was holding up. He didn't feel like painting himself accurately. He barely remembered how he'd looked back when...

 _Don't think about it._

A faint rumbling vibration spread across the floor and he straightened up, brush in hand.

"What's that?" the cube spoke up.

"She must be moving another room," he surmised. "Will she _ever_ be finished enough to..."

A sound cut him off, faint rising and lowering of robotic, female tones.

"She's talking," he said stupidly, surprised.

"But," the cube murmured, sounding somewhat confused, "if she's not talking to us, then..."

"Then who?" Doug finished.

The girl moved her head, taunting him. He didn't glance her way, but her movement served as a reminder. A jolt shot through him and his eyes widened. "Could it be...?"

He dropped the brush into his lab coat pocket and hurried over to the cube. He threw everything but the book back into the bag, looping it over his head. Taking off running down the empty corridor, he jumped up on the desks he'd piled up, and nimbly pulled himself up into the ceiling. He had to slow down to navigate the pipes, but he went as quickly as possible, expertly making his way to Test Subject Observation and Care. He'd had three years to memorise his new routes, and he knew it all like the back of his hand.

Finally, he dropped down into what had once been Adam's office. Setting the cube down next to the desk chair, he jiggled the computer mouse, clearing the screensaver. The Aperture logo was still burned into the monitor, distorting his view of the screen. Fingers flying over the keyboard as he typed, he pulled up the details for each testing track in turn until he found one, track five, that was flashing up an 'in use' message.

Doug inhaled sharply, unsure whether to believe it. Had She finally woken a test subject? Was She finally satisfied with her facility?

"Let's go and look!" the cube suggested.

Doug ran a hand through the ragged hair of his beard, suddenly afraid that his mind was playing tricks on him. He didn't want to hope only to find that it wasn't real. But he had to know, and there was no other way.

"Okay," he said at length. "Let's go. Track five isn't too far. Part of it was in use before She was active."

He picked up his bag again and left the office, stepping out into the cold, grey corridor. He'd cleared it of cameras months ago. GLaDOS didn't have enough control there to replace them.

As they went, the cube piped up again, "If she really is here, where do you think she is? Could she have gotten to chamber three by now?"

"Hard to say," he commented with a frown. "She's not stupid and she's handled the portal device before, but she may be disoriented from the stasis pod. We'll just have to catch up."

Heart beating painfully hard in anticipation, Doug ducked into each observation office, cautiously approaching the windows that looked down into the test chambers. GLaDOS had many cameras in the tests, but he hoped that she'd be so focused on her test subject that she wouldn't notice him.

Chambers one, two and three had been solved. Some of them were in the process of being reset by robotic claw arms. When he entered the observation office for chamber four, however, his eye was immediately drawn to the orange-clad figure standing directly in front of him. She had her back to him, and was staring down into the pit in the chamber.

 _Real?_ he wondered. _Or just my lying mind again?_

She _looked_ real, but so had the others. This time, however, she was exactly where he expected her to be.

 _Can she truly be awake after all this time?_

A flash of blue briefly lit up the wall in front of her as her arms moved with the recoil of the portal device. It only had a minor kick, he remembered that. A weighted storage cube tumbled out of the orange portal on the wall to the right, and she turned to pick it up with the gun's magnetic field. She placed the cube on the button, turning to watch the exit door slide open.

"Once again, excellent work," came GLaDOS's voice.

"GLaDOS can see her too," Doug whispered. "She _is_ real."

With eyes hungry for human contact, he shrank back and watched her cross the room to the door. Her expression was unmoving, as if she was trying very hard not to give anything away. Her posture was tense, and she wobbled a little on the leg springs that she'd been made to wear. She looked wary and afraid, but her jaw was resolutely set, her chin jutting slightly out in a small, stubborn gesture. Doug felt hope rekindle in his chest.

As she disappeared through the particle field across the exit, Doug spun on his heel and ran back down the corridor.

"The end is finally upon us," he shot over his shoulder.

"What do you mean?" asked the cube, its voice laced with confusion.

"You'll see. We have work to do."

* * *

Chell passed through the emancipation grill of chamber four, letting GLaDOS's words wash over her. She had schooled her expression into her best poker face, although to her, it felt a lot like scowling. Only her eyes were alert, taking in everything about the test chambers, searching every observation window for signs of life. It was all eerily quiet. But for the talkative A.I., of course.

It had felt like mere minutes since the stasis pod had gassed her into unconsciousness, then she'd awoken to brighter light than she'd left, accompanied by a bombardment of pale walls. Her relaxation chamber was exactly the same as it had been, but it had moved. The entire glass room had been relocated to a testing track. She'd recognised the decor from her brief time as a volunteer.

Groggily, she'd gotten to her feet, finding that a pair of Advanced Knee Replacements had been attached to her legs as she'd woken up. She'd been glad that she was already familiar with them, otherwise she wouldn't have known what to think. Fearing the worst, she'd looked around, taking in the empty observation office and the falsely cheerful song that was looping on the radio. Then there had come that voice: feminine, commanding, difficult to ignore. Although she'd never heard it before, she'd known immediately whose voice it was. GLaDOS was in charge. Doug had been right to be afraid.

She rested in the elevator between tests, mind spinning. She had no idea how she'd ended up actually testing, but she was glad in a way. She'd rather be awake than oblivious, even if she was dealing with difficult puzzles. Pacing the curved walls, Chell bit her lip, wondering what had happened to everyone else, to Doug, to her father, to her friends. If she could just find a way out of the test chambers, perhaps she'd find some answers. At the moment, she suspected the quickest way out was to make it to chamber nineteen, the last test according to the information boards she'd been reading.

The further she got on the track, the more she began to realise that that might be a harder goal than she'd anticipated. The tests were more dangerous than she'd thought, more dangerous than they'd been in the past. She knew this for sure, as Adam had once let her up to the observation offices to watch the testing. She'd seen chamber fourteen, which she remembered well. She'd laughed at him getting annoyed watching a test subject continually fail to jump to platforms that moved up and down out of a padded pit. He'd yelled repeatedly at the sound-proof glass, "You have a portal gun! Just portal to the other side!" They'd laughed, watching the poor test subject fall in again and again. Chell didn't laugh when it was her own turn, when she realised that the empty pit had been filled with toxic goo.

 _One of Hannah's recycling products?_ she wondered.

The further through the tests she got, the more the sight of the empty observation windows unnerved her. She was beginning to feel like the only person left in the facility. At the back of her mind, she knew that that was a very real possibility, but she refused to give credence to it. It scared her far too much.

 _Keep going_ , she lectured herself. _Don't worry about that until you have to_.

But that was easier said than done. She was haunted by the panicky look on Doug's face as he'd seen her to the stasis pod, and the way that his fear had fuelled her own.

It was GLaDOS, ironically, who gave her something else to worry about. When she stepped out into the short corridor that preceded chamber sixteen, she picked out only two words from the A.I.'s speech, words that had her heart beating fast in barely-suppressed dread: 'live fire'.

Chell had never been in close-contact with a gun in her entire life. Now she was facing a test chamber full of automated turrets, armed only with a device that made inter-dimensional gates. Feeling woefully out of her depth, she squared her shoulders and entered the room.

* * *

Unbeknownst to Chell, Doug had been running ahead of her, planting things in the old dens behind the test chamber walls, adding a few more helpful warnings to the graffiti that was already there. Most of it didn't make sense to his gradually-clearing mind, and he knew it wouldn't make sense to her, but he didn't have time to worry about it. She wasn't very far behind him.

He'd left graffiti in chambers sixteen, seventeen and eighteen, but it was sixteen that needed a few more additions. The girl would be up against turrets, and he was damned if he let her deal with it all on her own. From the den he'd once camped in, he rewired two of the wall panels to jut out, allowing access to the hidden room. Leaving the cube behind in the den, he scrambled up the back of the open panels, awkwardly balancing on the huge metal spoke that supported the top one. Using a screwdriver, he prised up a ceiling tile and pulled himself up into the space above. Balancing precariously on the grid the tiles were set into, he crawled several feet to the right, then tugged up a tile to see where he was. He had judged it well; he was almost directly above a turret. With caution, he lay down, spreading his weight. Tentatively stretching out with his right arm, he drew a wobbly cross on the ceiling with a thick red marker pen, exactly where the turret stood obliviously below. Then he replaced the tile and continued on.

Working steadily, Doug drew crosses above turrets wherever he could get to, hoping to make the girl's run a little easier. When he was done, he had only one thing left to do. In the alcove that contained the cube dispenser, located approximately halfway through the chamber, he dropped down to the floor, landing lightly on the balls of his feet. He was out of sight of the cameras, and the turrets were safely hidden behind walls and bullet-proof glass. As long as he didn't stray far, he'd be okay.

He plucked his screwdriver and a few other tools from the mostly-empty bag on his back, then stood on the cube that was sitting waiting. The dispenser was designed to only give out another cube if the first one got destroyed, but Doug knew that that would make the test much harder than it needed to be. It would be far better if there were a whole stack of cubes for the girl to use.

Aware that she was not many chambers behind him, he worked as efficiently as he could, loosening the screws that worked the mechanism on the dispenser so that it would be permanently open. The cubes were stacked in the glass tube above, so gravity would take care of the rest. The dispenser groaned as he worked, and he clenched his teeth as he focused. Then, with a startlingly loud crashing sound, seven or eight cubes tumbled out in quick succession, knocking him backwards off the one he was standing on. They were bizarrely followed by an empty mug that hit him directly in the stomach, making him wince, and a radio playing an upbeat Samba tune.

Mildly winded by the mug, which had miraculously stayed in one piece, Doug got to his feet, palm on the wall for support. When he moved his hand, he saw that he'd left a black, inky print behind. Not surprising, considering that several of his marker pens were leaking.

The dispenser was now gently sparking, opening and closing every few seconds. Doug set about stacking the cubes up so that he could reach his escape route in the ceiling. He left the radio and the mug there too. The more stuff that was available to be thrown at turrets, the better. Wobbling slightly, he clambered up, breathing easier when he'd slotted the tile back in place. He crawled back towards the light coming from his original route into the ceiling. It took him a few attempts to get back onto the open wall panels, but he managed it with the companion cube's encouragement. After re-securing the ceiling tile, he made his way down.

"Did you do it?" the cube asked excitedly.

"I did," he replied with a brief smile. "Should make it a little easier for her. I wish I could do more though."

"Doesn't she need something on this side of the room also?"

Doug's face fell. The cube was right. "Crap," he muttered. "How am I going to get two cubes over here?"

"I don't know, but you manage when you're carrying me."

"Good point. I'll have to go back then."

"Hurry!" the cube exclaimed.

Doug heeded its advice, making the fastest two trips there and back that he possibly could. He wedged the cubes in the gap he'd made between the wall panels to make them more noticeable. As an afterthought, he pulled out the red marker pen and scrawled HELP on the floor.

"What do you need help with?" the cube wanted to know, its tone implying that it would be raising a suspicious eyebrow if it could.

"I don't need help," he answered, pocketing the pen. "Well, I _do_ , but... you know what I mean. It's for her. So she knows where to _find_ help."

"Oh, I get it."

"We need to get out of here," he said, ducking back into the den from the other side of the panel. "She must be in chamber fifteen by now. I need to get to the locker too..."

"I still think that's a mistake," the cube muttered sulkily. "I don't think you need those things."

Doug nodded in acknowledgement, picking it up and putting it back in its bag. "I know you don't, but we're in a situation here."

"I know that," it said mournfully. "But even still..." It made a quiet huffing sound, like a sigh, then added, "What now?"

"We need to make sure she has a route to the main chamber," he said, slinging the bag on his back. "Most of it is pretty straightforward once she reaches the lower engine rooms, but it's getting her there. And getting her out of chamber nineteen."

As he talked, Doug climbed up the wire fence that separated the den from the stairs and door beyond. He'd cut and rolled back a section of stiff mesh to gain access, and he pushed it back in place once he was hanging from the other side. It didn't look like it had even been cut. Just as his fingers were beginning to protest, he dropped down. He'd become surprisingly agile during his three years in hiding.

He tapped his four-digit code into the keypad by the door. It beeped politely and he opened it, revealing the rusty gantry of the maintenance areas. Bracing the door with his foot, he unscrewed the handle on the den's side, removing it just in case the girl found her way past the fence. His hands shook slightly, as they always did when he was doing something that would keep her on the right path. He bit down another wave of regret, knowing full well that he was preventing her from escaping the potential death traps that were the test chambers.

"You have to," the cube reminded him. "You have no choice."

"I know," he murmured, closing the door, leaving the detached handle on the floor beside it. "But neither time nor repetition can make it any easier. She doesn't... She's..."

"I know," it said gently.

There was a pause as Doug pulled himself together. Then he looked thoughtfully left and right down the gantry, unsure what to do next.

"I'm a little worried about chamber nineteen," he mused to himself as he considered his course of action.

"What do you mean?" asked the cube. "Why worried?"

Doug shot it a look over his shoulder. "Well, we've never seen it, have we? We never found a way in. What if she needs help?"

"How will we get in now if we haven't before? Unless we go around and try from the finish line side?"

He nodded, already walking in the direction of the nearest office. "I think that's the only way we can do it," he stated grimly.

When they reached the office, Doug swiftly logged on to the maps of the areas around the test chambers. There _was_ a way to the end of chamber nineteen, through a turret repair workshop. The thought of passing through that made him a little nervous, but at least there was a good chance that the turrets wouldn't work.

Route in mind, he started running, aware that the girl was catching up in the test chambers. The turret workshop was silent, each unit there deactivated, their sinister red optics dull and lifeless. It took him a few minutes to hack the keypad by the exit, but he got it eventually. The door opened out onto a sparse, industrial-looking platform, the left wall of which was made entirely of glass. But it was the sight beyond that that made him halt in his tracks, his mouth falling open in horror.

Chamber nineteen led directly into an incinerator.

* * *

 **A/N:** Argh cliffhanger! Except not, because you know how this ends. But shh.


	14. Empty Chairs at Empty Tables

**A/N:** This will be the last update for a week or so, as I will be very busy with work and Christmas things. I hope everyone has a happy holiday and takes some time to relax :)

* * *

 **2010.  
Empty Chairs at Empty Tables.**

Doug stared aghast at the flames in the pit below, noting the track for the Unstationary Scaffold that led right down into it. His mind went completely blank in horror. Even the cube had nothing to say.

"She's…" he spluttered at last. "She's just going to… _kill_ them? Every test subject?" He began to pace, scrubbing his face with his hands. "But…that doesn't make any sense. _Why_ would She do that? It's counterproductive." Turning his attention back to the girl, he moaned, "Oh god, I have to do something. I have to fix this. How can she possibly get out of there?"

"You need to calm down," the cube instructed, its tone firm. "You know it gets worse when you panic."

Already fighting the rising hum of other voices, Doug nodded, trying to control his breathing.

"You can do this," the cube told him. "Just _think_. Take another look around. Think like a scientist. Or…a rational man, at least."

He let out a shaky breath. "Okay. Okay."

He approached the glass, looking down into the fire pit, searching the entire space from burning floor to high ceiling. There was a broken wall above, leading into what looked like one of the engineering areas.

"Potential escape route for her," the cube said, sounding optimistic.

"Yes, but she has to get here first," he shot back, biting his lip anxiously as he scrutinised the space. A jolt went through him, a spark of faint hope. "Wait…those walls. They're portal-compatible. And so are these back here. They didn't bother constructing walls out of expensive brown gloss tiles just to let them burn," he realised, "they used the cheaper alternative because they didn't think there was any way out." His face broke into an unexpected grin. "But there is, if we break this glass."

"That's going to be easier said than done though, right?" the cube said. "We don't have anything heavy enough to hit it with."

"We don't need anything," Doug replied, setting it down against the back wall, bag and all. "We're next to a turret repair workshop."

The cube's tone brightened. "Ah!"

He went back through the door and picked up one of the deactivated turrets from what looked like the 'completed' shelf. He'd seen them before, but he had very little experience of actually working on them. Making sure to keep behind it, he set it down and flicked the switch. At once, a thin line of ruby red appeared, hitting the wall ahead, and a sweet little voice said, "Sentry-mode activated."

Doug carefully picked it up by its leg struts, holding it far out in front of him.

"Hey!" it protested indignantly.

"Don't you 'hey' me," he growled, taking it back through to the platform above the incinerator.

He put it down facing the glass. The turret's laser sight moved gently from side to side, but it didn't fire, soon settling back into sentry-mode.

A voice let out a peel of mocking laughter, and Doug knew exactly what he needed to do.

"Great," he muttered sardonically, moving as far to the right as he dared.

"Be careful!" the cube cried.

"I intend to."

Taking a deep breath, he darted out in front of the turret.

"There you are," it stated happily.

Doug dove wildly to the side as a line of bullets pelted the glass wall. Clumsily, he crawled back out of the turret's range, then glanced up to see the damage. The line of holes was quite neat, each with spider-webbing cracks spreading out from the centre.

"It's not bullet-proof," he pointed out in relief. "Just toughened."

"Did you think it was?"

"I thought it was a possibility."

"Nap time," the turret declared, closing its side panels.

Doug got to his feet and moved the turret into the far corner, its laser sight searching nothing but wall. Then he retrieved a heavy wrench from the repair workshop and stood in front of the bullet holes, testing its weight in his hand.

"Make it count," the cube advised. "We're running out of time."

"I know."

After a few practice swings, Doug gripped the wrench tightly, raised it, then brought it down with as much force as he could muster. The glass was reinforced, but it wasn't invincible. On his third hit, the cracks crept across its entire surface, shooting upwards like lightning bolts. Then, in one single motion, the entire wall broke into pieces and fell into the fire below. Doug just had time to skip backwards before he was pelted with shards of flying glass, and he covered his head with his arms.

The noise was tremendous, and he felt sure that GLaDOS would be instantly aware of what he'd done, but that was okay. He didn't intend to stick around. He walked the length of the platform, kicking leftover pieces of glass into the fire, mindful of the fact that the girl wasn't wearing shoes. Nodding in satisfaction, he swung the cube onto his back again.

"Wait!" it said. "The turret."

Doug halted, glancing over his shoulder. "Oh. Right."

He went back and picked it up, once again holding it ahead of himself as he walked towards the gap where the glass had been.

"Please put me down," the turret protested.

"Oh, I intend to," he muttered, well aware that it wasn't sentient. It just made a change to speak to something that wasn't the cube.

He leaned cautiously over the railing that now served as the only barrier between the platform and the fire pit. The heat was intense, and he squinted, feeling the skin on his cheeks burn. He dropped the turret into the flames, where it spluttered out a few bullets before promptly exploding.

"Let's get out of here," he suggested, backing away from the hot air.

"What now?"

"I'm going back for my meds, then we stay ahead of the test subject and make sure her route is clear."

"I'm not sure we have time to go back to the locker room," the cube said, its voice surly.

"It's not far. We'll make it," Doug replied firmly.

"I don't know what you think you've achieved, Rat Man," GLaDOS cut in, sounding too close for comfort.

Doug jumped violently and ran for the door.

"But I very seriously doubt it's anything other than mindless vandalism. I'd take it out of your pay, but we both know that money only has meaning in the real world, and you won't be getting back there any time soon."

He slammed the door on her words, dashing back through the turret repair room and out into the corridors. The talkative supercomputer didn't know what he was up to, had no way of knowing that Her death trap now had an escape route. That was enough to hearten him, despite Her taunting. Doubt swam to the fore, though, questioning whether he'd done all he could to keep the girl safe, whether she'd be quick enough to see the way out. He tried to shake the feeling off. He _had_ to trust her. It had been sufficient in the past, back when…

 _Stop it. Focus._

With great difficulty, Doug pushed his emotions aside, choosing instead to keep his goal in mind. Putting on an extra burst of speed, he ran back towards the locker, towards a clearer head.

* * *

Chell, meanwhile, was busy euthanizing her companion cube, inwardly smirking at GLaDOS's attempts to make her believe that it was painful to do so. It was just a cube with a pink heart on it. No big deal.

Listening to the A.I.'s speech with half an ear, she sauntered to the elevator, now as comfortable in the leg springs as she was in shoes. Her face was still passive, but her mind was working overtime. The observation offices remained empty, sending another bout of concern through her every time she checked. She knew GLaDOS was in charge. It was abundantly clear. What was still unknown was what had happened to everyone else, not to mention how much time had passed. Chell didn't feel any older, nor did she look it, based on the few glimpses she'd caught of herself when she'd placed portals at certain angles, but she wasn't stupid. She realised that she probably wasn't the first test subject to pass through the chambers, and GLaDOS seemed quite comfortably established in her role.

Someone had been leaving warnings for test subjects, manipulating the wall panels to allow access to small rooms behind the chambers. The wild scribbles, often making very little sense, were the only sign of humanity that she'd seen so far. Whoever it was had become far more attached to their companion cube than she had been, leaving tributes to it all over the place. She couldn't find it in her heart to be too derogatory towards them, though, since they'd also left her half a bottle of clean water that had been very welcome.

Chell leaned against the wall of the elevator, awaiting her arrival at chamber eighteen.

 _So close_ , she thought. _I just need to keep my focus until the end._

It was difficult to put her worries aside, though. She was scared to discover what had happened outside the test chambers. If GLaDOS was in charge, she could probably assume the worst. There was no way that Doug would have left her in Test Subject Storage if everything had gone fine with the launch. He'd promised her that he'd save himself if something went wrong, but how successful had he been? And if he had been successful, where was he now? And her father… She'd been so angry with him and his misplaced ideals, but it had all but evaporated now, in the face of her fear. She would happily throw it all aside just to know that he was okay.

Deep in her heart, she knew the truth, but she refused to acknowledge it. Doing so would make it seem real. She had no proof yet, and she needed to keep her attention on the tests. Otherwise she'd come to a sticky end. Fortunately, chamber eighteen was large and complex enough to keep her on her toes.

Chamber nineteen harboured the biggest wake-up call of all.

* * *

Patiently waiting for his medication to kick in, Doug was once again in the fire pit room, this time crouched high above the flames beside the huge gap in the wall opposite the now-accessible platform lower down. He was edgy, knuckles white where he gripped broken pipes for support. He knew it was unwise, but he had to wait and see that she was okay.

"I hear something!" the cube said excitedly.

"It's _Her_ ," Doug spat. "Lying about the cake again. It won't take the girl long to solve this one."

His palms were clammy, so he wiped them on his lab coat, swallowing a nervous lump in his throat.

 _She's going to die,_ whispered a voice. _Like the rest of us. You can't save anyone._

"Shut up," he hissed.

 _You didn't even try. Now it won't make any difference._

"It's okay," the cube soothed. "You just need to stay calm."

"Well I _can't_ ," he snapped. "She might die. She might…"

"She might not," the cube countered. "You said you had to trust her, so _trust her_."

"Too late now anyway," he murmured, hearing GLaDOS's chilling speech of farewell.

The unstationary scaffold drifted into view, the slender, orange-clad figure standing in its centre, her ponytail whipping round as she quickly took in her surroundings.

"Come on," Doug whispered. "Come on, Chell. Stay alive."

He didn't even register that he'd used her name, eyes fixed on her form as it slid closer and closer to the flames. He was beginning to fear that she wouldn't make it, but then she lifted the barrel of the portal gun, shooting a loop of brilliant blue into the wall just above the platform ahead of her. Pivoting fast, she shot a beam of orange into the wall to her left, took a single step back, then launched herself forward. She leapt gracefully through the portal, landing safely on the platform, her leg springs absorbing the impact. She was breathing fast, clearly shaken up.

GLaDOS also seemed taken aback, her voice glitching slightly before she tried to ad-lib her way through what had happened.

Chell began searching for a way out, her gaze sweeping the walls.

Doug shot to his feet, moving out of her view. He couldn't afford to be seen, not even by her. He pelted up a short flight of steps into the next area, then took the following stairs two at a time, running up to a small gantry leading to an unlocked door. This he left slightly open, so that the girl would find her way easily. It led through to another turret repair workshop, but he didn't stop to look around, running up the next set of stairs as quickly as possible, knowing that she was now mere feet behind him. There was one door at the top and a second one guarded by a padlocked gate. She would be able to portal through the mesh, which would take her, eventually, to some of the Test Subject Observation and Care offices. He trusted that she would be able to bypass the huge fans and the pool of toxic gunk that had collected on the bottom floor.

He jabbed his code into the rewired keypad next to the other door, yanking it open and darting inside before she could catch him up. He shot up another short flight of stairs and crawled through the vent that he'd left open for himself. It was a tight fit for the cube, which scraped along the floor and ceiling as he pulled it awkwardly behind him, but eventually he emerged in an area with an observation window down to the toxic pool.

Heading down the stairs in front of him, he glanced down at the room she would enter the area by, noticing the graffiti he'd drawn last time he'd visited: a running stick figure and a scarlet arrow pointing up, so she'd know to get herself to the top gantry. The stairs had collapsed since he'd last ventured there, eroded by time and lack of use, not to mention whatever fumes the toxic goo was giving off. Through the window, he saw the girl step out of a portal, try the locked door next to her, then begin searching the walls for where to place her next.

"She's doing well," the cube commented warmly.

"She is," he agreed, managing a trace of a smile. "Let's keep going, she'll be here soon."

Doug took the stairs behind him, leading up to a dead end where one of the glass tubes could be seen, cubes and other equipment occasionally passing through it. He'd scrawled on this wall too, his frantic message about the promise of cake being a lie. He'd been in a particularly wild state of mind that day, unable to exert even the tiniest bit of control over the buzz of voices in his head. It had seemed of utmost importance that the test subject realise that she was being lied to. He'd forgotten that she would _already_ know that.

"Where does this tube lead?" he mused aloud. "Is there any way to control which direction it takes?"

"The panel on the wall," the cube suggested, "there. Turn off the other propulsion units."

"Yes!" he hissed, darting over to the panel, wrenching its protective cover open. Fingers flying over the buttons, he said, "This tube leads to the cube dispenser in test chamber nine, among other places. She beat that once, she can do it again."

"But what then? She'd be back where she started."

"If we keep the elevator elsewhere, she can get out down the lift shaft. That would take her..." he trailed off, calling the layout of the place to mind. "...Into the area with the pistons. That's going to be hard for us to navigate. I barely made it alone, last time."

"Did you leave her a message though?"

"I think so. I can't really remember. If I did, it was just arrows."

The cube made a soft, thoughtful noise. "She'll make it, I'm sure. But what about us?"

As he talked, Doug worked steadily to turn off all the propulsion units except for the ones that would take her to chamber nine. "We can go the back way and catch up with her later. There!"

A quick check through the observation window showed that the girl was still exploring the Test Subject Observation and Care offices. Doug hurried back to the tube and hopped lightly over the railing that guarded it.

"Careful," the cube warned.

"I will be."

Holding onto the wall for balance, he kicked forcefully at the glass. Unlike the reinforced stuff that he'd found in chamber nineteen, this was regular glass, which cracked within moments. Doug's leg lurched down as it gave way, and he was forced to grab the railing to stop himself falling in. Fighting the tug of the propulsion system, he hauled himself back over.

"Good job," said the cube. "Now let's _go_. She'll see us if we're not careful."

"I know, I know."

He headed back down to the vent he'd come in by, climbing in and replacing its slatted cover. Retreating back around the nearest corner, he hid there until he heard the faint tapping of the test subject's leg springs disappear up the stairs. When he cautiously peeked out again, it was just in time to see her vanish into the broken tube.

"Time to go," he said briskly.

* * *

Chell walked through Test Subject Observation and Care with an expression of horror on her face. It looked nothing like she remembered it, save for the observation rooms themselves. Whole sections of the walkways had dissolved into the toxic waste that now covered the floor of the lower level, and doors that would have let her through to corridors she recognised were inaccessible, submerged under the goo. Everywhere was deserted, chairs tipped over at tables that still had unfinished work scattered across them. In one of the conference rooms, a slide show was still looping, watched only by half-finished notes and empty coffee mugs.

It was all deeply unnerving, and seemed to confirm her worst fear. She ventured into the observation offices and looked down at tests she'd already solved. On the wall, she found Hannah's stupid jellyfish cartoon that she'd doodled when Adam's back had been turned. Chell traced her fingers over it, her hands trembling slightly as she considered what had most likely happened to them both.

She plopped down on a desk chair for a quick rest, knowing she couldn't linger for long. Looking around at the silent, abandoned workspace, she felt more alone than ever.

"Doug," she whispered. "Where _are_ you?"

Her hope for him was the hope she clung to the most, as he had promised her he'd survive. She wanted to believe that he wouldn't let her down, and she needed to believe in _something_. She had no plan. She was blindly following the notes left by someone who seemed to know their way around, hoping it would lead to an exit, or at least to somewhere she recognised.

Wearily, she got up and exited the suite of offices, crossing the walkway over what had once been the lower floor, but was now the most foul-smelling cesspit she'd ever experienced. After portalling her way up to a series of gantries and stairs, she found more graffiti, accompanied by handprints above a broken transport tube. Leaning forward over the railing there, she lightly pressed her palm against one of the prints. It was slightly bigger than her own hand, its fingers longer. Most likely a man, then, as Chell considered herself to have average-sized hands for a woman, not that she'd ever put much thought into it. When she pulled back, her palm was dotted with black ink.

She froze, wide-eyed. The prints were fairly new, as recent as…well, however long it took ink to dry. She didn't think that was very long at all. They had been here, possibly while she'd been resting in the offices below. But where had they gone? Down into the tube? It seemed the only way.

Gingerly, she climbed over the railing and looked sceptically at the tube. It reminded her of the water flumes she'd used to ride at the swimming pool during school break. She'd never much cared for them, feeling a little like a spider washed down the drain. But there was no choice here. Gripping the portal device tight to her chest, she dropped down into the hole, tucking her legs up. Floating along on a current of air, she rode across Test Subject Observation and Care, hoping she was fast on the trail of the mysterious message-writer. No one else was going to give her any answers.

* * *

 **A/N:** Points for you if you know where I got this chapter title from :)


	15. The Ultimate Systems Crash

**A/N:** Well I'm back. I hope everyone had a nice Christmas and new year. I planned to post sooner, but the festive period is insane when you work in pharmacy.

Let's crack on! Recognisable dialogue in this chapter comes from Portal and Lab Rat.

* * *

 **2010.  
The Ultimate Systems Crash.**

After Chell's departure into the broken transport tube, Doug had backtracked to Test Subject Observation and Care, breaking the window through to the conference room with its looping slide show. He let himself out into the corridors beyond, wary of cameras. He hadn't passed that way since GLaDOS had taken over.

"How long has it been since I took my meds?" he asked softly.

"About fifteen minutes," the cube replied, sounding sullen.

"Hmm. It'll be a while before they kick in then. I think they've technically expired."

"I'm worried. What if them being past the expiry date means they have unknown side effects?"

Doug shook his head, as if trying to jar the notion loose. "It's worth the risk," he declared firmly, believing it despite the cube's doubts.

Slipping through another door back into the maintenance areas, he broke into a run. He had a place in mind where he could catch up with the girl, but he had to beat her there. After a moment, he found a door that he'd marked with an X, and typed in his code. The door opened out into a shabby area drenched in red light: one of his old sleeping dens. His makeshift cardboard bed was still there, looking as uncomfortable as it had felt.

Unsure how far behind she was, he hurriedly took a plastic water bottle from the bag the cube sat in, tipping what was left in it into one of the large containers he'd kept in the den. Then, to indicate that it was for her benefit, he scribbled another HELP on the wall next to the older graffiti.

Throwing the empty bottle back in the bag, he continued on down the short corridor to a large gap in the wall. It overlooked a series of huge, slow-moving pistons, rising and falling with loud, dull clangs. A broken ladder led to the way forward, up to a doorway high on the wall. Checking that the girl was not in the room, Doug turned and climbed down the shorter ladder that served as the only entrance to the den for those who did not have a portal gun. He hopped onto the piston nearest the way out, riding it up, then making a leap for the rungs of the wall ladder before he had time to over-think it. He scrambled to the top and pulled himself into the relative safety of the corridor beyond.

There was a mesh wire gate nearby leading to a darkened area beyond more of the clear transport tubes. A padlock hung open on the latch. Doug swung the gate open and closed it behind him. He couldn't lock it from that side, but most likely the girl would walk straight past it. He turned, winding his way through the tubes to the dim area beyond. Running his fingers along the wall, he managed to find the air conditioning duct he was after, and he pulled himself into it.

"Where are we going?" the cube asked.

"Away. The rest of the girl's route is pretty well mapped out from here," he replied, navigating the vents. "I was able to get into the piston rooms and backtrack to areas I couldn't reach initially. She has a small turret trap ahead of her, but it's pretty straightforward. I'm sure she can get through it."

"Then what?"

"She'll reach another suite of offices where she'll need to bypass a rocket launcher, but the walls are glass there, so her way out will be simple. After that, she'll be in the tunnels that used to lead to the breaker room."

"You mean, the ones _She_ flooded with toxic waste?"

Doug nodded, peering through a grid in the floor to check his location. "That's where we're going. We have to wait for the girl to catch up."

"Do you really think she can?" the cube asked.

He nodded again, more firmly. "I have faith in her."

They kept going in silence, Doug pulling the cube behind him while he crawled through the vents. Once they were out, he swung the bag on his back again, breaking into a jog as he wound his way along the corridors and walkways. Eventually, he stopped at another keypad door, typing his code in. The door opened out on a wide platform in an industrial-looking area. Once, it had been a maintenance access point, high above the pathways below. Now it was simply a platform above a river of sludge.

"She should approach from there," he said, pointing at the narrow route on the opposite wall.

"When?" the cube wanted to know.

"Soon. She will have gotten past the turrets by now." He turned away, looking up at the tiny grate that would serve as her exit point via portals. "After that, she's on her own. There's no way up from here except through that, and we won't fit."

"The main chamber is more closely guarded than it used to be," the cube spoke up. "Like the pharmacy wing."

Doug nodded in grim agreement. "That's my fault. I tried to get into the breaker room a few days after GLaDOS was activated. Then when it occurred to me to try and steal more medication, I found she'd learned enough from that experience to block all routes to the pharmacy."

"I remember."

He shot the cube a raised eyebrow. "You do? But you weren't around then."

"Not in body," it admitted, "but I'm part of _you_ , Doug, don't forget."

He faced forward again, passing a hand over his chin. "I do forget sometimes. It's difficult not to when you…when you sound like her."

Taking a deep breath, he pulled his leaky black marker pen from his pocket and approached the wall. His hand halted a few inches from the concrete, shaking slightly as his breath caught.

 _Last chance_ , he thought. _Last chance to keep her safe. She'll never have to come into contact with GLaDOS if you don't draw that arrow._

"If I don't draw it," he murmured aloud, "none of us will escape. We won't even have a chance."

He'd been trying so hard over his period of isolation, trying to forget who she was and what she meant to him. At times he'd succeeded, at others he was pretending, attempting to convince himself that he was in control. In that moment, the moment that mattered the most, he knew exactly who she was. Drawing the first line felt like the worst kind of betrayal.

He persevered until he'd gotten the most out of the steadily-dying marker pen: an arrow pointing up towards the grate, surrounded by several smaller, stylised ones. With every line he drew, an apology fell from his lips. The cube remained respectfully silent throughout.

Dropping the pen into his lab coat pocket, Doug withdrew into the corridor, pulling the door almost closed, leaving a tiny crack to see through. He wasn't sure how long he waited. The medication had kicked in enough to stop the background hum of voices, and everything felt still, an intimidating level of silence that he'd almost forgotten after three years of noise. The cube – which had always had the strongest, most consistent voice – would be the last to fade.

Eventually, he heard the faint pop of a portal opening. Then there came the sound of the girl's footsteps, and he pulled the door closed, wincing at the beep it made as it locked. He stood motionless, ear against the cool, painted surface. There was a second portal sound, then the tap of her leg springs close by. Doug held his breath as the door handle moved, his hand hovering aimlessly next to it. Gently, he pressed his palm to the door, as if he could reach through and touch her shoulder, her hand, her hair…anything to remind himself that she was really there.

He heard her walk off, her steps pausing a short way away. Most likely she was examining the arrow. Then they came back twice as fast, and a sharp knock on the door made him jump back in alarm.

"I know you're in there!" she said fiercely, her voice raspy with disuse. "This ink is still wet, and there's nowhere else for you to go!"

Doug sank into a crouch, his heart hammering like one of the pistons back in engineering. He clasped a hand over his mouth, a deterrent against calling out to her.

"Look, just…please. Please come out. I just want to see with my own eyes that…someone's still alive." She sighed heavily, the sound muffled by the door. "I don't know where you're sending me, but…I'm beginning to think that…maybe it isn't a way out?" Her voice was tentative, unsure. "I don't know what you're up to, but…no doubt you have your reasons." There was a pause, heavy and awkward. Then she spoke again, this time in an angry, bitter tone. "You know what? Fine. Stay in there, I don't care. I'm going to find and deactivate that psycho supercomputer, then I'm getting out of here. Feel free to do the same, you cowardly asshole, and hope that I don't die trying."

He listened to her stomp furiously away. She fired two portals, and he heard her step into some kind of squelchy gunk, emitting a soft noise of disgust.

He lowered his hand, breathing so fast he thought he might be having a panic attack. His mind was whirling, trying to regain control of his careful self-delusion. But then, just when he thought he'd got it back, it all crumbled. Stumbling clumsily to his feet, he typed his code into the keypad and wrenched the door open. Through the vivid cerulean hole in the wall, he saw her picking her way through what looked like mud, raising her portal gun to aim at the wall higher up, out of the trench she was currently in.

"Wait!" he cried, rushing forwards. But he'd timed it badly, his word getting lost in the gentle noise from the portal device as she fired. The portal disappeared, and he found himself facing concrete again.

"Don't do it," the cube warned.

For perhaps the first time, Doug ignored it, lunging to stand under the tiny grate. "Chell!"

But she had gone. Shortly, there came the sound of turret voices and gunfire, and he sank to his knees, hands shaking.

"What have I done?" he whispered.

"What you had to do to survive," the cube told him sagely, calm despite the tears that were now pricking his eyes.

Feeling his guilt as a tangible weight on his shoulders, he closed his eyes, drawing in a ragged breath as he listened to the turrets spraying bullets above.

"I'm not so sure it was worth it. Not if I have to go on like this."

"There's still hope."

Doug shook his head. "Not if she's…" He couldn't say the word.

"Do you trust her?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes!" he declared vehemently. "I just…I'm afraid. Of…of losing her. It would be all my fault. I would have killed my best friend, the only person who has ever looked out for me in this place."

In the room above, the turrets had fallen silent. Doug looked up, biting his lip as he waited for the one sound he needed to hear. The moment stretched agonisingly on, but then there it was: the dull pop of portals opening, followed by the faint sound of clothing rippling in the breeze.

"She must be using momentum techniques," he muttered aloud.

"See?" said the cube. "She's fine. But what about you?"

That was a good question. What about him? He already had the answer to that: he was a mess.

"I…" he began, considering. "I think…I need to paint something." He scrambled to his feet, heading back through the door. "All we can do now is wait."

He broke into a run, navigating the corridors with ease, the layout of the place fresh in his mind.

"Stay to the right!" the cube piped up as they approached a fork in the path. "Turrets ahead on your left."

Doug veered right, seeing the scarlet laser sights ahead. "Whatever you say."

Before long, he had reached his room of murals, its sole blank wall staring invitingly at him. His pots of paint, taken long ago from a decorator's closet, waited patiently for him, along with a selection of brushes and his now-battered Art Therapy book. He set the cube down on top of a filing cabinet he'd dragged there, dropping his bag by the side.

Doug stared at the wall, the canvas that had remained blank for so long because he hadn't known what to put on it. Suddenly, he knew exactly what should go there. He could already see it, he just had to make it a reality.

 _This won't take long at all_ , he thought to himself. _Just as well._

Opening the paint pots, he got to work, both on the painting and on focusing his mind.

* * *

Chell had had enough of being manipulated, either by GLaDOS or the mysterious message-writer.

The last straw had been the arrow out of the sewer-like area, its still-wet ink and the nearby locked door throwing her into a whirling tornado of emotions: first desperation, then acceptance, then a sudden sharp flare of anger.

After she had dealt with the turrets in the room above, she regretted what she'd yelled. Chances were the person had already run out of earshot, leaving her ranting at an empty corridor. But if they _had_ been there, she wasn't surprised that they hadn't made themselves known after she'd called them a cowardly asshole. She hadn't meant it, not really. She was just fed up, and she'd begun to suspect where the seemingly-helpful graffiti was leading her. At first, she'd been angry, scared that it was a trap, but now there was nothing she wanted more than to find GLaDOS and shut her down. Chell had well and truly reached the end of her tether.

She crossed the walkway over the turret room with slow, cautious steps. The room seemed to stretch endlessly upward, fading into misty blue depths that were broken up only by dozens of other walkways and vine-like, draping cables. A door awaited her at the end. Just a simple, unlocked, push-the-handle door.

She raised an eyebrow as she approached it. She wasn't sure exactly what she'd been expecting, but it seemed rather anti-climactic after everything she'd been through. Granted, it was flanked by warning signs, but there were hundreds of those about.

Shrugging, Chell opened it, stepping into a bleak, grey-tinted corridor. It wasn't entirely unlike the corridors on the management level where she'd worked, just colder and more clinical somehow. Doug had once described it as dull and depressing, and now she saw why. No wonder he'd hated working there.

She turned a corner, discovering an alcove with three chairs in it, facing large windows through to the main chamber. Sidetracked, Chell approached them, her mouth falling open as she saw GLaDOS's fortress for the first time. It was a cylindrical monstrosity, rising up from the floor on struts, reachable only by the glass-walled corridor nearby. More walkways surrounded it, criss-crossing upwards into the absurdly-high ceiling. The Aperture Laboratories logo was proudly stamped vertically on the side.

Wetting her dry lips, feeling her heartbeat speed up in part anticipation, part fear, Chell backed out of the alcove, climbing the three or four steps up to the corridor beside it.

'Caution: Wear your respirator,' a sign by the door helpfully advised.

Chell scoffed humourlessly. _That_ had gone down well.

Her steps down the glass corridor were slower still. The door at the far end was open, and she could see the A.I. hanging from the ceiling, swaying gently. She was surrounded by cables, and Chell could see several cores attached to her, similar in design to Wheatley. As she got closer, she noticed that the room was full of huge, widescreen monitors flashing up a variety of images too fast to comprehend.

Unable to put it off anymore, she stepped through the particle field across the door. There were desks just inside, the computer keyboards and stationary abandoned just like everywhere else. On the left-hand side there was a bright red telephone. Chell stared at it, a long-ago memory surfacing. Her third week working at Aperture, the internal phone lines going down, Doug's future colleague, Henry, yelling at Marlene…

 _"You don't understand… If the phones are out then that means the red phone is out too!...You don't even know what I'm talking about…"_

She blinked. Clearly, the phone had been intended to be an emergency helpline, one that the scientists had relied on. In light of what had happened to them all, it seemed a ridiculously inadequate failsafe.

"Well, you found me," GLaDOS said, pulling her out of her memories. "Congratulations. Was it worth it? Because despite your violent behaviour, the only thing you've managed to break so far is my heart."

Chell narrowed her eyes, carefully walking a little closer. There was a kind of observation deck in the middle of the room, and a strange little room on struts off to one side. At the far end, she spotted an incinerator like the one she'd dropped the companion cube into.

GLaDOS turned to her, fixing her with a stare from her bright yellow optic. "Maybe you could settle for that and we'll just call it a day," she went on. "I guess we both know that isn't going to happen. You chose this path. Now I have a surprise for you."

She backed up a little, wary of what the A.I. might be planning. Chell's anger had made her determined to come and confront GLaDOS, but now that she was actually doing it, she wondered if she'd been a little hasty. She had no defence against neurotoxin, and no knowledge of how to deactivate a homicidal computer.

' _Deactivate' is a loose term, Chell_ , she reminded herself firmly. _Rip her wires out if you have to._

Still, she wished she had something more heavy-duty than a portal device.

"Deploying surprise in five, four..."

One of the cores fell off with a dull clunk, sparking as it hit the floor. The sight seemed to halt both of them in their tracks.

"Time out for a second," GLaDOS said. "That wasn't supposed to happen."

Chell raised a sceptical eyebrow. She had heeded Doug's advice not to talk to GLaDOS, and she wasn't about to start now, however conversational the A.I. was suddenly being.

GLaDOS rattled on, unperturbed. "Do you see that thing that fell out of me? What is that? It's not the surprise. I've never seen it before. Never mind. It's a mystery I'll solve later...by myself...because you'll be dead."

 _Wait_ , Chell thought rapidly. _That thing is part of her…_

She darted forward, picking the sphere up with the gun's magnetic field. It stared at her with a luminous purple optic. Unlike Wheatley, it didn't speak.

"Where are you taking that thing?" GLaDOS demanded.

Chell ignored her, running for the incinerator.

"I wouldn't bother with that thing," GLaDOS advised matter-of-factly. "My guess is that touching it will just make your life even worse somehow."

The incinerator had a protective cover that seemed impossible to move. There wasn't a control panel in sight. Keeping panic at bay, Chell glanced around the rest of the room. On a whim, she hurried for the steps up to the strange room on struts, leaving the core on the floor. To her immense relief, there was a button there that opened the cover, but only for a short time. No doubt it was an attempt at a safety measure for the workers. To Chell it was an inconvenience.

She ducked back out of the room to fire a portal over near the incinerator, opening the second one on the wall beside her.

"I don't want to tell you your business," GLaDOS put in, implying the exact opposite, "but if it were me, I'd leave that thing alone. Do you think I am trying to trick you with reverse psychology? I mean, seriously now."

Chell activated the button, jumped through the portal and picked up the core, sending it plummeting down into the fire. She heard it explode, then the room gave a mild shudder. Startled, she whipped round to see if her actions had had any effect.

"You are kiddingme," the A.I. exclaimed, her voice glitching on the first word. "Did you just stuff that Aperture Science Thing We-Don't-Know-What-It-Does into an Aperture Science Emergency Intelligence Incinerator? That has got to be the dumbest thing that…whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa." Her voice distorted again, reducing to static.

Then GLaDOS chuckled, a sly, low, triumphant sound. "Good news," she said, her voice suddenly less like a computer and more like the human woman who served as her foundation. "I figured out what that thing you just incinerated did."

Chell could barely remember Caroline, but there was no mistaking that the voice was very familiar.

"It was a morality core they installed after I flooded the Enrichment Centre with a deadly neurotoxin to make me stop flooding the Enrichment Centre with a deadly neurotoxin."

At her words, Chell felt as if someone had poured ice water down her spine.

 _The morality core…I destroyed the morality core,_ she thought, starting to panic. _The only semblance of a conscience she has._ _I'm dead. Why the HELL didn't Doug tell me what it looked like?!_

Deep inside though, she knew it wasn't Doug's fault. She'd known about the morality core, she should have considered that the sphere she'd burned might have been it.

"So," the A.I. went on, "get comfortable while I warm up the neurotoxin emitters."

Vents around the room began spitting out clouds of noxious, green-tinted gas and a timer appeared on the monitors. Unable to simply stand and do nothing, Chell broke into a run, circling the room while she tried to think of a way out.

"Huh," GLaDOS said. "That core may have had some ancillary responsibilities. I can't shut off the turret defences."

Chell skidded to a halt as a rocket launcher core rose up out of the floor in front of her. Its optic turned red as it spotted her and she dove to one side as it fired. The rocket hit the wall behind her, showering her with chips of concrete.

The A.I. seemed to be regarding her behaviour as entertainment. "Oh well," she said carelessly. "If you want my advice, you should just lie down in front of a rocket. Trust me, it'll be a lot less painful than the neurotoxin."

 _We'll see which one of us can handle being in front of a rocket_ , Chell thought determinedly.

She fired two portals in the wall, one at ground level, one opposite GLaDOS. She stood in front of the one at ground level, holding her breath as the neurotoxin hissed overhead. The rocket launcher's laser sight found her, and Chell was pleased to see that it lined up nicely with the swaying robot. She once again dived aside as it fired, rolling to her feet just in time to see the rocket strike the side of GLaDOS's chassis.

Her voice glitched again, her optic momentarily going dark. Another core fell off, bouncing up to rest on top of a couple of pipes. Chell fired a portal behind it, reaching through to pick it up. It chirped at her in a high-pitched, childlike voice, asking an endless stream of questions that she ignored. Using the same method as before, she sent it spinning away into the incinerator. There came a harsh, robotic scream that made her wince.

"You think you're doing some damage?" GLaDOS snapped harshly. "Two plus two is...ten. IN BASE FOUR! I'M FINE!"

Coughing, Chell looked up at her with wide eyes, unsure if she was winning or not. Her lungs were burning, her eyes stinging. She knew, without the helpful countdown to remind her, that she was fast running out of time.

 _I can't do this_ , she thought, trying not to lose her nerve. Panic wouldn't help her. _I don't know what I'm doing._

She ran back to the wall, firing the portals to get the rocket to hit GLaDOS again. It was the only plan she had.

"I let you survive this long because I was curious about your behaviour," the A.I. told her as she went. "Well, you've managed to destroy that part of me. Unfortunately, as much as I'd love to now, I can't get the neurotoxin into your head any faster."

 _No need,_ she thought bitterly, diving aside as the rocket passed her. _It's doing a good job on its own._

Another core flew off the chassis, lifted up onto a platform next to GLaDOS's spinning processors by a malfunctioning gravity field. Chell set about retrieving it, giving herself a run-up and leaping through a portal to grab it. As she sent it the same way as the others, it recited what sounded like a cake recipe.

The room shook again as the core exploded, causing her to cling on the incinerator for support. Another rocket came her way and she jumped backwards out of its path.

In the centre of the chamber, GLaDOS began to imitate a cough. "Neurotoxin..." she spluttered. "So deadly...Choking..." She gave a vicious laugh. "I'm kidding! When I said deadly neurotoxin, the 'deadly' was in massive sarcasm quotes. I could take a bath in this stuff…"

Her voice cut off, then sped up as Chell redirected another rocket her way. The test subject watched a fourth core fly up away from the chassis, stopping to hang stubbornly in mid-air, out of reach. She spat on the floor, trying to rid herself of the foul taste in her mouth, but it did no good. She had minutes left, if that. Clenching her teeth, she once again placed portals in strategic positions, emerging high in the wall to grab the core as she fell down.

"Who's gonna make the cake when I'm gone?" GLaDOS asked sharply. "You? Look, you're wasting your time. And, believe me, you don't have a whole lot left to waste."

Chell disregarded that as she jogged back to the incinerator, her vision beginning to swim, nausea seeping through her stomach.

"You've been wrong about every single thing you've ever done, including this thing," GLaDOS declared.

Maybe it was Chell's toxin-addled brain, but she thought she detected a hint of panic in the robot's tone.

"You're not smart. You're not a scientist. You're not a doctor. You're not even a full-time employee. Where did your life go so wrong?"

Chell didn't react, running up the steps to the incinerator button.

"Are you trying to escape?" GLaDOS asked with a faint chuckle. "Things have changed since the last time you left the building. What's going on out there will make you wish you were back in here. I have an infinite capacity for knowledge, and even I'm not sure what's going on outside."

Coughs racking her body, Chell ignored the A.I.'s bluff, throwing the final core, (a red-optic one that growled and snarled at her), into the fire.

The room shuddered again, and the monitors and cables fell away from the robot's chassis. She hung limply from the ceiling, sparking. She was still talking, but her voice was warped, speeding up into something unrecognisable. Blue and green arcs of lightning shot out of the processors above her, which began to spin even faster, losing parts of their casing. She was breaking apart, her voice now slowing like a broken record player.

Chell slumped to her knees, barely able to breathe. Something strange was happening above, a tornado of false gravity fields, debris and neurotoxin, which was pulling GLaDOS up higher and higher towards the ceiling. The suction plucked the portal gun from her hands, whipping her hair around her face. Realising what was about to happen, Chell looked desperately around for something to hang onto. Her fingers scraped uselessly at the floor as she too was picked up and carried upwards.

There was a deafening explosion as the ceiling blew apart, and Chell was blinded by severe, white light. She closed her eyes tight, feeling the wind whistle past as she was pulled further up. She felt herself falling in an arc, no longer supported by the malfunctioning gravity fields, and just had time to rasp out a cry before she hit the ground. The impact knocked the breath out of her, sending bruising pain shooting through her tired limbs. Her head scraped along the ground. Woozily, she opened her eyes.

Vaguely, she recognised the entrance to the parking lot, and felt the hot discomfort of the sun-warmed asphalt she was lying on. Debris rained around and on her, pieces of GLaDOS's chassis and other parts of the main chamber. Some of them were steadily burning.

 _I need to move_ , she idly thought to herself.

On muscles that were trembling relentlessly, she tried to push herself up, but her arms gave way and she slumped back down, rolling onto her back. The fresh air was helping clear the neurotoxin from her lungs, but she'd breathed enough of it to make her feel drastically sick and more than a little fragile. Her eyes fluttered closed again, and she felt unconsciousness creeping up on her.

 _At least I fixed your mistakes, Dad_ …

* * *

 **A/N:** I can't believe we've reached the end of Portal already. Not to worry though, there's a lot more of this story to come.

Fun fact: this chapter includes the single line of dialogue that shaped Chell's role in pre-GLaDOS Aperture for this story: 'You're not even a full-time employee'. Hence why I could only give her part-time hours :)


	16. Heroism

**A/N:** More stuff from Lab Rat here. I don't own any dialogue you recognise.

* * *

 **2010.  
Heroism.**

While Chell was making a desperate attempt to take down her robotic nemesis, Doug was adding the final splash of paint to his work. He stepped back to admire it, a little surprised that he'd achieved such a good likeness in such a short amount of time. The image had flowed from his brushes, fully formed in his head: Chell, angelically posed with her arms at her sides, her eyes closed serenely. She was his personal incarnation of faith.

"Another mural to mark the occasion," he spoke aloud, looking at the painting with something not unlike reverence.

The cube didn't answer right away. It was getting sluggish and confused, meaning the medication was finally showing signs of working.

Doug dropped his brush into a container of paint water and sat down, his back against the wall. Drawing his knees up to his chest, he sighed. He felt calmer, but his stomach was still full of butterflies, and his feet itched to run back to the locked doors that led to the A.I. chamber, just to be nearby.

"Where is the girl now?" the cube asked, sounding puzzled.

Doug frowned. "On her way into the final chamber," he guessed. He wasn't sure how much time had passed.

"You mean with… _Her_?"

He glanced at it, feeling a pang of regret. It was his fault that the cube was bewildered, but his head felt clearer than it had in years, so he couldn't quite bring himself to wish he hadn't taken the pills.

He got to his feet, crossing the room to pat the cube comfortingly on its topside. Chell's file lay on the floor beside it, and he bent to pick it up.

"She doesn't have a chance," the cube said sadly.

"Oh," he replied softly, humouring it, "she has more of a chance than you think."

He read over her notes again, the warnings about her high levels of tenacity. Despite their friendship putting them on equal ground, he'd always been in awe of her. If anyone could achieve what he'd orchestrated them to achieve, he knew she could.

Suddenly, a series of explosions tore through the facility, shaking the world like an earthquake. The lights went off, and Doug found himself falling through the dark, not sure which way was up anymore. He landed hard on concrete, a level or two down from where he'd been, he suspected. Winded, he lay still for a moment, then propped himself up on an elbow.

"What was that?" he wondered aloud, already knowing the answer, but unable to consider the consequences.

 _What did she_ do _?_

His eyes adjusted to the light, and he looked around. He was surrounded by debris. Strangely enough, the walls of his mural room were still intact, just separated from each other. They were propped up around him like display boards, but the section of wall that had housed the door had broken off. The ceiling hung above, lurching sideways on its metal support girders, a few of its tiles missing. The floor tiles were scattered everywhere, mingling with the moveable panels that were below.

Doug pushed himself up to his knees, gathering the pages of Chell's file, which had settled around him like large pieces of confetti. The cube sat not far away, surrounded by his bag and his collection of brushes. Jumping to his feet, he ran over to it.

"Are you okay?" he asked, picking it up.

"The room shook itself to pieces," the cube observed, its voice awed.

"Like an unbalanced centrifuge," Doug added.

"I heard an explosion. What could it mean?"

Doug glanced up, already planning his route up the pipes and metalwork. He put the cube in the bag, swinging it onto his back. He retrieved Chell's file, saying as calmly as he could, "Only one thing it _can_ mean."

Gripping her file between his teeth, he began to climb until he reached the corridor that had once led to the mural room. It was a wreck, but his route was still usable. No longer in fear of security cameras, he took the corridors, sprinting as fast as he could to the main chamber, the file held securely in his hand. As he'd suspected, the previously-locked doors were open again, and it wasn't long before he arrived, panting, in the central A.I. chamber.

It was a warzone. The ceiling was all but gone, showing blue sky high above. GLaDOS lay on the floor, limp and broken. From the way she was lying and the damage to her chassis, it looked as if she'd somehow fallen from a great height. She was still attached to the broken ceiling by a scant few cables, which held her up like some grotesque puppet. Her optic was dark and lifeless.

"She did it," Doug breathed, staring wide-eyed at the wreckage. "It's over."

He could hardly believe it and yet, at the same time, he'd never really doubted her.

A tentative smile found its way onto his face. "The ultimate systems crash."

"Where's the girl?" asked the cube. "She didn't stay to check out her handiwork?"

He looked around, but sure enough there was no sign of her. "She must have gotten out," he said. After all, it had taken him several minutes to get out of the ruined mural room. "Probably on the surface, soaking up some sun."

"I'm sure you're right," the cube replied lazily. As an afterthought, it added, "What is this 'sun' of which you speak?"

"And she has the right idea," Doug stated, ignoring it. "Come on, we're wasting daylight."

 _The outer doors must be open now_ , he thought. _I hope so anyway, otherwise we'll be climbing our way out._

"Watch out for the turrets," the cube cautioned. "The queen may be dead, but the hornet's nest has been kicked."

Doug nodded in acknowledgement, then set off running back the way they'd come. He trusted the elevators now that GLaDOS was down, taking one up to level one, an area in which he hadn't set foot in years. He chose to ignore the route up to what had once been main reception on the surface, heading instead to the stairs up to the fire escape. The double doors taunted him with the lines of sunlight seeping in underneath them. He put on an extra burst of speed, slamming hard into the horizontal bar that opened them.

The doors burst open, hitting the walls on either side, and Doug emerged into the bright sunlight of the parking lot.

"Freedom!" he yelled ecstatically, closing his eyes and turning his face to the sun.

"My eyes! My eyes!" whimpered the cube.

Turning away, Doug glanced around at the debris-littered ground. The explosions had spat a lot up to the surface. Half of the cars were buried under chunks of masonry and metal, and there were small fires dotted around.

 _Where is she?_ he wondered internally. _She couldn't have gotten too far in the time it took to get here, surely I can catch up._

 _Are you sure she'll want you to?_ a slurring voice jeered. _You were the one who made her do this, you were the one she called a coward. She won't want to see you._

 _Get out of my head!_ he silently screamed.

But he feared the voice was right. There was no way she would want him around anymore, not after everything he'd done. She deserved better friends.

He started walking, distractedly enjoying the feel of the breeze on his face, trying to ease the pain in his chest at the thought of never seeing or speaking to her again.

A sound pulled him out of his melancholy reflections, a metallic clanging and a strange kind of scraping noise.

"Shh," he hissed at both himself and the voices. "I hear something."

"Quick, get down before it sees you!" the cube squeaked.

In ardent agreement, Doug leapt behind a large piece of debris, peering stealthily around the side. For a moment there was nothing but the odd collection of noises. Then a robot, a design he'd never seen before, came into view. It looked like a personality core that had been set clumsily into a humanoid body. Its optic was bright pink, and its limbs were spindly and looked rather homespun by Aperture standards. It was clinging awkwardly to the shoulders of a young woman in an orange jumpsuit, pulling her along the ground, a motion that had already broken her leg springs. Her eyes were closed, her face pale. There was a sliver of blood at the corner of her mouth, and her jumpsuit was dirty and torn. A large graze at her left temple was bruised and lightly bleeding. To Doug's relief, she was still breathing. The droid was relentlessly pulling her backwards, towards a set of steps leading down into the ground.

"No!" he whispered, horrified. "It's dragging her back inside."

His eyes narrowed as he considered what to do. He had nothing to attack the robot with. He wasn't sure he'd win if he started. Grimacing, he watched as she was dragged none-too-gently down the stairs, his mind whirling in panic as he struggled for a plan. Leaving his hiding place, he staggered forward, his head annoyingly free of ideas.

"You don't have to go back in there," the cube said, sounding like a scared child.

"I can't just walk away," he told it firmly.

"You're right," it amended. "Walking is too slow. Run away."

"Running is what I've _been_ doing," Doug snapped. "Running and hiding."

He was angry at the cube's suggestions, knowing that they represented a cowardly, selfish part of himself that he had to overcome. The thought of going back down into the labs repulsed him. His three years of captivity had made him desperate to get out, and now that he'd seen the sky again, he couldn't bear to descend back into darkness.

"It's why you're still alive," said the cube earnestly. "You're not a hero. Heroes die."

"You don't understand," he muttered through gritted teeth. "It's my fault she's down there. I'm not leaving her. I would have been trapped forever if not for her."

"Listen, it's too dangerous. You're going to get killed."

Doug paused, absorbing its words. It could be right, but leaving Chell behind was simply not an option. He knew it. He'd always known it.

"So be it," he said decisively, lifting his chin. "But I'm done running. I have to at least try to save her."

 _As she would for me_ , he added silently.

Still without a solid plan, he hurried after the robot, determinedly not looking back at the outside world as he tripped down the stairs.

"Then you really are crazy," the cube sighed.

"It's my fault you don't remember why we fight for her," Doug spoke up as he ran. "If you were yourself, you wouldn't be saying any of this. You'd remember…Oh, it doesn't matter."

It was easy to follow the route the robot had taken, as Chell's various cuts were leaving tiny spots of blood on the floor. Doug grimaced as he pursued them, all the more determined to save her.

"I'm not feeling so good," the cube said in a small voice. "Those pills you took…I think the medicine is starting to work. Soon you won't need me anymore."

"I'll always need you," he told it kindly, taking the stairs to Test Subject Storage two at a time.

"I don't think you will…" the cube whispered.

Doug pelted through the corridors, bypassing the room of stasis pods that he'd put Chell into on Bring Your Cat To Work Day. Finally, he burst into the Relaxation Centre, the wing for long-term stasis, and followed the blood spots to one of the climate-controlled rooms, where they abruptly stopped. There was a widescreen monitor above the door, showing the interior of the cryo-chamber, which looked deceptively like a plain motel room. Chell lay in the bed, her chest barely moving as she took shallow breaths. She was still unconscious.

"No," he moaned, feeling his heart plummet into his shoes. "They've already put her in long-term relaxation. I need to get up to cryo-control, but turrets block the way."

He glanced back at the monitor, watching her struggling to breathe. A frown creased his brow. That most certainly wasn't right.

"Her cryo-chamber," he said, thinking aloud. "Something's wrong."

He darted to the nearest control panel on the wall, throwing its cover open and reading the display.

"Life support has been compromised. The explosion blew the main grid. Her chamber is offline," he cried, trying not to give into his rising alarm. "All the cryo-chambers are offline!" He clapped a hand to his mouth, thinking fast. The lives of hundreds of test subjects, not to mention Chell's, were at stake, and he had limited time.

 _Okay,_ he thought, attempting to inject a little rationality, _I have to get up to cryo-control. There_ is _no other option._

He sprinted for the service ladder, the fastest way up there that he knew of. A corridor and a room full of turrets awaited him at the top.

"I'm only going to get one chance," he told himself. "I have to cross the room, get past the turrets, jump the rail, then dive left or right to avoid being shot. Okay…do I dive left or right?"

To him, they looked equally unappealing and hopeless, but he could do with a second opinion. The cube, however, remained silent.

"Hello?" he said cautiously. "You still back there?"

Nothing.

"Left or right? Don't make me guess! I'm running out of time."

Nothing.

He could feel the panic welling up inside him, but he couldn't afford the time it would take to calm down. He had to move _now_.

"Well," he said, his voice unsteady, "ready or not…"

Recalling the sight of Chell's motionless form, Doug started running. He took the turrets by surprise, almost making it out of range before they even thought to open fire. He hesitated for less than a second before diving to the left, but it was a moment that cost him dearly. The bullet hit him in his right thigh, stealing a cry and a gasp from him.

He managed to stagger into the corridor beyond before collapsing to the ground, the shock and the sharpness of the pain making his limbs feel weak. Cryo-control was barely ten feet away, but it seemed three times as far. The cube tumbled out of his bag, coming to a stop a short way off. Doug reached for it, as if it would lend him the strength he needed to get back on his feet.

 _Must…stay…conscious_ , he told himself. But it was no use. The darkness swamped him and pulled him under.

* * *

The cube was humming when he awoke. Doug almost felt peaceful, lying there on the floor listening to it. Then his leg gave another stab of pain, pushing the cobwebs of unconsciousness aside. He remembered what had happened, and his panic returned full-force.

"How long have I been out?" he asked frantically, trying to regain the strength to lift his head off the floor.

"Long enough," the cube told him unhelpfully.

"You're back."

"I never left you," it said, contrary to the impression Doug had gotten in the turret room when he'd been forced to make a choice alone.

There was no time to waste reflecting on _that_ , however. Doug bit his lip as he attempted to pick himself up. The pain spiked and he gasped.

"There's something I wanted to ask," said the cube nonchalantly, seemingly oblivious to his struggles. "How did you know about the girl?"

"Know what?" he rasped.

"That she was the one."

"Something in her file," he replied, pushing himself up into a sitting position and examining the wound. He'd left a worryingly large puddle of blood on the floor.

"She had the highest IQ?" the cube went on.

"No, some were higher."

"Then she was the fastest? The most athletic?"

"No," he said, wiping perspiration off his forehead, "nothing like that."

 _Why are you asking me all this?_ he wondered inwardly. _And why now?_

"Then what?"

"A hunch," he said through clenched teeth, bracing his sweaty hands on the cube and trying to stand up, keeping all his weight on his left leg. He was soon back down on the ground, eyes wet with tears of pain and frustration.

 _It doesn't matter_ , he thought. _She's probably already dead. You don't know how long you've been out_.

"You might still be able to save her," the cube announced.

"What?" he snapped.

 _You choose to tell me this now?_

"How?" he asked desperately. "I can't get to her cryo-chamber…"

"You can't _free_ her, but you might _save_ her. You can patch her cryo-unit into the reserve grid."

Doug realised it was right. His mind, through the cube, had finally figured out the only viable answer. Praying that he'd only been unconscious for a matter of minutes, he crawled for the nearest console in cryo-control.

"You can reset the fuses and restart her life support," the cube called after him. "If it's not too late already."

Doug hauled himself up to reach the keyboard, and began typing as fast as he could. "But even if it works, there will be no wake-up date. She'll be in there indefinitely. So it's the long sleep…or the long sleep. And I don't know which is worse." He swallowed a lump in his throat, finger hovering over the activation key. "Forgive me," he whispered as he pressed it.

He pulled up the image from the camera in her room, watching as she began to take deeper breaths before her body slipped into stasis. She was alive. She just wasn't living.

"It worked!" he exclaimed, his voice hollow with relief. "Sleep well."

 _Both alive and dead, until someone opens the box_.

Idly, he wondered if she remembered the patchy version of Schrödinger's Cat that he'd shared with her all those years ago.

He pulled another image up on the screen, a diagram of all the cryo-units. Chell's room and the five others nearest it flashed up green. The others were all red or unlit. Doug didn't have the time or energy to dwell on that. He'd saved her and, as a bonus, the other test subjects who happened to be on the same grid circuit as her. That would have to be enough. Maybe there was a chance he could save himself too.

Resorting to his old routes behind the walls, he made his slow, excruciating way back to the short-term stasis wing of Test Subject Storage. He crawled into the first glass room he came across, rewiring the pod so that it was tapped into another of the reserve power grids. The pods were designed to heal minor injuries that the test subjects acquired. He didn't know how it would handle a bullet wound, but it was the best chance he had.

"Maybe it's time I slept too," he said at last, when he'd set everything up. "I'm so tired now."

"You've earned a rest," the cube agreed.

Doug used it as a step up into the pod, vision beginning to swim. "You see," he panted, trying to push past the pain, "I told you I would always need you."

The pages of Chell's file tumbled out of the bag, but he was past caring, his body cloaked in bone-deep fatigue. He lowered the lid of the pod, eyes already drifting closed. No wake up date. He was in for a very long sleep. He was too tired to worry about how permanent it would be.

Outside his pod, the cube stood guard and watched the years roll by.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hope you're enjoying this so far. There won't be an update next weekend as I'll be away.


	17. Still Alive

**A/N:** And here we are at Portal 2. I've been meaning to explore what Doug might have gotten up to if he'd survived and been active, so this story finally gave me a chance to do that :)

* * *

 **Unknown year.  
Still Alive.**

Nature had reclaimed the higher levels of Aperture Laboratories. To the clinical, controlled fortress of man-made achievements, it was an unmistakeable middle finger up. In the end, science had no defence against the passage of time and a collection of determined weeds. The cores that had tried to run the place alone found their duties hampered by damaged management rails, debris blocking their paths, or simply internal corruption that had no one to fix it.

The scientists were long gone, wiped out by neurotoxin or beaten by a test chamber. Only their fallen belongings marked their existence. The test subjects were also long gone. Those awaiting testing had been put in suspension and had died peacefully in their sleep following a critical power failure that had shut off their relaxation vaults. Only a handful remained, those whose cryo-chambers were patched into the reserve power.

In another part of the Relaxation Centre, a single short-term stasis chamber sat in a large corner of the grid-like corridor system, moved there by an obliging housekeeping core that thought it was tidying up. It too was patched into the reserve power, making its occupant the seventh survivor in the entire facility.

A curious personality core noticed the chamber when he was exploring the confines of his management rail, and immediately knew that it wasn't supposed to be there. In attempting to open the boxy room made entirely of glass, the core accidentally powered it down. Alarmed that he'd killed the occupant, the core zipped away from the scene of the crime.

Inside the pod, the man in stasis had two paths ahead: wake up or die. He woke up. The pod gave him no choice in the matter. The loss of reserve power meant an automatic revival. He woke up screaming. He'd drifted into unconsciousness half convinced that he would die. To be rudely awoken again after that sort of mind-set was a tremendous shock.

Pushing the transparent lid of the pod, he sat up, coughing, examining the aches and pains of his body. His leg seemed to be healed, he noticed. The blood was dry and the wound scabbed over, but it _hurt_. Moving experimentally drew a hiss of breath through his teeth as his hastily-mended limb protested. Warily, he pressed a hand lightly to the bruised skin around the wound. It was cool to the touch, like the rest of him. He sniffed cautiously, but could smell nothing but the musty, earthy scent of the facility, coupled with his own sweat. No infection, then. He just hoped the bullet was out, or he'd have serious trouble further down the line.

"You're awake!"

Although the voice had no direction, he turned his head towards the object that his mind told him had spoken: the scuffed, dusty companion cube by the pod.

"You too," he said, his voice gruff after however-long-it-had-been in stasis. "Were you sleeping as well?"

"I always sleep when you do."

"Of course."

"I think we were out for a long time, Doug."

Looking around at the cracked walls and overgrown plants, Doug had to agree. There was no way of knowing how long it had been, not from inside the vault.

He eased himself out of the pod, gingerly putting weight on his wounded leg. The stab of pain made him gasp and softly swear. The leg wobbled almost comically, his knee uncontrollably shaky, but it didn't give way. He'd get used to it. He had to.

"Careful!" the cube advised.

"I'm always careful," he rasped.

"If that was true you wouldn't have that hole in your thigh."

He sighed heavily, stretching, hearing his joints pop and click. "That was different. It was an emergency."

"Is she awake too?"

There were, of course, two 'she's in Doug's life, and he could always tell which one the cube meant by the tone of its voice. One was all casual brightness, the other a sinister kind of awe and trepidation, as if it deserved a capital letter. This was the former.

"I have no idea."

He limped around the small, glass room, picking up the fallen sheets of Chell's file notes and tucking them back into their folder. They were dusty, like everything else around him, but they weren't weathered otherwise. He caught sight of his reflection in the walls: pale-faced, drastic shadows in the hollows of his cheekbones and under his eyes, his dark hair and beard untidy where he'd cut them himself. He looked a mess, but he hadn't aged. His hair and fingernails were the same length they had been when he'd first climbed into the pod.

He scooped up his bag and shook the dust off it, dropping the file inside. Then he picked up the cube and set it on the pod, running a hand over it to clear the gathered dirt.

"Looks like we're both a mess," he commented as he worked.

"Speak for yourself," the cube quipped.

Doug chuckled briefly. Looking around, he took in the sheer silence that surrounded him. He couldn't see much from where he was, which, he noted, was _not_ where he had been when he'd fallen asleep. The vault seemed to have been dumped in a wide corridor, completely cutting off the route. It was separated from its control panel, too, which meant that he'd have to smash his way out.

"If everything is all…overgrown," he mused, "then maybe there's a chance we can get into the cryo-chambers."

"And free the girl?"

"Yes. And I'm done calling her that, by the way. I can't do it anymore. I can't deny who she is, not after everything she's done." He fixed the cube with a firm look. "She's Chell. She's my friend. And I'm going to save her."

"Okay," it answered softly.

He nodded, patting it on its top heart.

"I wonder why we woke up," it said thoughtfully. "There isn't anything happening, is there?"

"It doesn't seem like it," Doug replied. "It _is_ weird. Why would we wake now after so long? What changed?"

He caught a flash of blue in his peripheral vision and the cube said, "Look!"

Pivoting on his good leg, he turned to the wall that faced the corridor. There was a personality core on the rail in the ceiling, looking as if it was peeping around the corner. Its bright, azure optic was half hidden behind the wall. Doug frowned as he stared at it.

"That's not…it can't be. Can it?"

"What?" the cube asked.

Limping over to the glass wall, he crooked a finger, beckoning the core over. After a moment's hesitation, it complied. As it got closer, it became clear that his suspicions were correct.

"You're alive!" it said, optic wide in a kind of grin.

The familiar, friendly, British-accented voice was muffled by the glass, but was still audible.

Doug grinned back. "Wheatley!"

The core seemed startled, fixing his gaze on him in apparent confusion. "Uh…I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"It's Doug," he yelled. "Doug Rattmann."

"Can't be," Wheatley said, shaking his whole body as a human would shake his head. "All the scientists are dead. Besides, I happen to know Doug Rattmann, okay, and he did not have hair on his face. I would've remembered that."

"It _is_ me. The hair is…it's something that happens to humans over time, their hair grows. For some, that includes on their faces."

Wheatley was managing to look dubious.

Doug tried again. "Look, I'll prove it. The first time we met was when Chell got lost in the corridors and you led her back, then she brought me over to see you. After that, you worked in her office and I used to pop in occasionally."

"Say I believe your story," the core said suspiciously, "how do you explain being alive when all the others are dead?"

"I was in a pod like this one. It kept me alive."

Wheatley glanced behind him at the stasis pod and the cube sitting calmly on top of it. "I see," he said. "You, uh, you look kind of trapped in there."

"I plan to break the glass," Doug told him.

Wheatley's optic brightened. "Ah! I can help you there. I know how to hack the wall."

Doug raised a sceptical eyebrow. "You do?"

"Yep. Just…just turn around for a second, would you?"

"Excuse me?"

"I can't, uh, can't do it if you're watching." He gave what sounded like an embarrassed laugh.

Shrugging, Doug turned. There was a moment of silence, then he jumped as the wall behind him smashed. Eyes wide, he spun around. Wheatley was shaking glass fragments off his shell, managing to look quite pleased with himself.

"There," he said. "Hacked."

"In a manner of speaking," Doug muttered. "Um…thank you."

"You're welcome."

Another stab of pain in his leg had him suddenly sweating, his vision starting to blur. Firmly against the idea of passing out, Doug limped over to pull the cube off the stasis pod, setting it down so that he could sit on it. Awkwardly, fighting the stiffness of his muscles, he put his head between his knees.

"You look terrible, mate," Wheatley observed.

Doug laughed humourlessly. "Oh, I know."

"That wound _is_ healed, right?" the cube piped up.

"I just need to get used to it," he replied stubbornly, wondering if he was telling the whole truth. He considered whether he should bandage it and, if so, what with. "Do I have a first aid kit with me?"

"No, you left them in the mural room, remember?"

"Ah," he grunted, cautiously sitting upright. "You're right, I did. Damn."

"Um…" said Wheatley, peering at him. "Are you okay? I could've sworn you were talking to that cube."

Doug leaned back against the stasis pod, rubbing his gritty eyes. "I do that sometimes," he explained simply. "Don't worry about it."

"O…kay."

"You seemed surprised to see me alive," he said, changing the subject. "Why was that?"

The core shifted his optic guiltily. "Um….well, I may have…I thought I may have killed you. Accidentally. Turns out I actually woke you up, so…so that's good, isn't it? Not dead, and awake to boot. Win, win."

"Yes," he agreed, "it's very good. Listen, Wheatley, is there anyone else awake? Human, I mean."

"Um, no. Gonna say no. Not right now."

Taking a breath, he asked the critical question. "Is there anyone else alive?"

"Oh yes," Wheatley said brightly. "There are _two_ test subjects."

Face paling further, he repeated, "Two? That's all?"

Again, the core looked decidedly shifty. "Well, to be honest it's been a bit boring in here in the past several years. Most of the test subjects died long ago, something to do with the big power failure that, uh, that happened. But some of them were patched into the reserve power, along with you, and they survived. For a while."

"Then what happened?"

"Um…well….I, uh, I thought I'd try and wake one of them up so that we could escape."

Doug's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You wanted to escape?"

"Yes. It's either terrifying or boring working here now, depending on whether…" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Whether… _She_ …is awake. Nobody's heard from her for a good long while, mind. But that doesn't mean that she won't wake up again. So, I decided to escape while things were quiet, thought having someone with legs along for the journey might be a good idea, so…"

"So you woke a test subject," Doug finished for him.

"Yes. And…well, the plan didn't go well, let's just say that. Turns out that the test subjects aren't much use outside of the test chambers. I tried to leave four times, right, and they all died on the way, each and every one of them."

Doug felt a wave of alarm pass through him, racking his body with cold nausea. "But there are two left? Out of the six on the reserve grid?"

"That's right," Wheatley said nodding. "I thought I'd quit while I was ahead, to be honest. You know, figure out what was going wrong before I tried again. I haven't, uh, haven't got too far with that yet." His optic widened, turning towards Doug. "Hey, here's an idea: let's you and me escape together! Bet we'd make a great team."

Forcing a smile onto his face, Doug nodded. "Yes, that's a great idea, but I've got some stuff to sort out first. I need you to answer something. It's important, really important."

"Oh. Okay."

"The four test subjects that you woke up…were any of them Chell?"

"No," Wheatley said at once. "Definitely not. They were all men actually. Well, except the one who was a woman."

Doug's face, which had been gradually brightening at his words, fell into dismay once more.

"No, no," the core went on, "it's okay, though. This woman had yellow hair. She looked nothing like Chell. Also, she had some kind of weird, demonic symbols on her arms. Not sure what those were about, definitely evil if you ask me."

Doug had neither the time nor the inclination to explain tattoos to him, instead focusing on what he'd said. "So, Chell is still alive? Still asleep?"

"I haven't seen her, mate. It's possible she could be in there."

"Okay," he said, running his hands through his hair. "Okay, that's…that's good. That's very good." He didn't allow himself to think of the nameless others, mindful of distractions, and quashed the flicker of guilt that flared up in the face of his forced callousness. Chell was alive. That would have to be enough.

There was a brief pause, broken by Wheatley. "So, um, what about this escaping then?"

"Right. Yes, that." Doug sat up straighter, keeping his sore leg stretched out in front of him. "We will escape, I promise you, but I'm not leaving without her. Or the other test subject, if we can. We're all going to get out of here together. Okay?"

Wheatley was giving off an air of uncertainty, but he bobbed his optic in a nod. "Okay. What do you have in mind?"

"I'll need to think about that." He leaned back again, wincing as he moved. "How did you come to be in this part of the facility anyway?" he asked.

"Ah, well, the order for that came from above. You know, from…from _Her_ ," Wheatley answered. "I stayed in the office for ages after the alarms went off, you know, waiting for Chell to come back. Then I realised that no one _was_ coming back. A message came through saying that I had to go and find a job elsewhere, so I tried my hand at a few different things. Eventually, got ordered up here to keep an eye on the humans. To be honest, they've never done very much. Mostly just sleeping."

Doug nodded in response, closing his eyes briefly. He may have been asleep for years, but he still felt bone-tired and weak.

"Your leg may be mended," said the cube wisely, "but you still lost a lot of blood. You're going to have to build up your strength again."

He patted it in acknowledgement. It was probably right. Whatever the pod had done was clearly not a natural form of healing. His leg almost felt in shock, as if it was confused about the lack of bullet and had decided to continue making him feel like he'd only just been shot.

 _That's the most ridiculous thing you've ever come up with_ , he thought cynically, pushing the image aside.

"Are we far from cryo-control?" he asked Wheatley.

"No, not far," the core replied. "It's the next level down. Why? Got a plan, have you?"

He didn't, but he wasn't about to share that information freely. "Maybe. Just need to check some details."

"Okay. Follow me, I'll take you there."

"Sounds good. Just give me a minute to grab my stuff."

He tentatively stood up, leaning heavily on the stasis pod. As he put everything back in his bag, using the pod as a desk, he spotted something lying on the padded bed. Opening the transparent lid, he reached for it. It was a bullet, burnished bronze and dotted with dried blood. His.

"Well," he murmured. "That answers that."

"At least it's not still in you," the cube commented.

"Yes. That's something."

He pocketed it, although he wasn't sure why, and picked up the cube, setting it in the bag with everything else. Then he swung it onto his back and turned to face Wheatley.

"Okay, I'm ready."

Gritting his teeth, he carefully stepped over the broken glass to join the personality core in the corridor. They made slow progress until Doug's leg felt a little more manageable. The elevator between floors was the easiest part.

"Are the elevators running on reserve power too?" the cube asked.

Doug shrugged, examining the panel on the wall. "It doesn't say, but I guess they must be. They probably count as priority equipment."

Wheatley was waiting for them in cryo-control, having slid down a vertical section of rail. Doug limped out to meet him, panting at the effort. By the time he sank thankfully into the wheeled desk chair at the console, he was clammy with sweat. The computer keyboard was still splattered with his bloody fingerprints. Although the system still allowed him access, it appeared confused about the passage of time, flashing up a constant 12:00 where the time had once been. The date read 01.01.01, which was clearly incorrect. He'd been twenty-six in 2001, and it felt like a lifetime ago.

He pulled up the security images for Chell's room, the number still fresh in his memory. She was just as he had left her, unconscious, breathing suspended with the rest of her body. Some of his anxiety melted away at the sight of her.

"Still alive," the cube said, sounding as if it wanted to smile.

"Still alive," he repeated, not bothering to hide his relief.

"That's good," put in Wheatley.

Next, Doug accessed the diagrams for the cryo-units. True to Wheatley's story, all but two of them were showing as empty or flashing red, indicating that they housed a deceased occupant. Grimacing, he found the reports for the short-term units. They too were all lit red, but for the one that he had just come from.

"That's why your chamber was up here," Wheatley put in, peering over his shoulder. "All the others were dead, so the housekeeping core thought it made sense for you to be in this department. Stupid, really."

Doug sat back in his chair, his heart heavy in his chest. Three survivors out of hundreds, possibly thousands. That hadn't been what he'd intended at all. He'd hoped that he'd be able to wake everyone up after Chell had taken GLaDOS down. But then, he hadn't counted on the turret.

He knew he needed to come up with a plan, but first he had to take care of himself: find food and water, find a first aid kit so he could bind his leg, then get some proper sleep that wasn't artificial suspension. Chell and the other test subject would be fine where they were for the moment.

Tilting his head, he looked up at Wheatley. "I need to go and find food," he told the core. "I need rest, so that I can put the finishing touches on the plan."

"Fair enough, fair enough," Wheatley said cheerfully. "I can wait. Just, uh, just don't be _too_ long, all right? I get nervous up here by myself."

Doug sent him a sympathetic smile. "I won't be long, I promise. I just…need to do human things. I'll be back in a few hours, okay?"

"Okay. I'll wait right here."

"See you later."

Leaving the Relaxation Centre behind him, Doug tried to remember where his nearest supply den was, eventually coming to the conclusion that it was in one of the observation offices, adjacent to testing track five, the one that Chell had run prior to defeating GLaDOS. It was a long walk, especially on his sore leg, but he made it.

The facility was a wreck, overgrown with vines, burst pipes dripping water on the carpets, entire walls crumbled away. The office, once securely behind the walls of the test chamber, was now accessible from the testing track due to broken wall tiles and fallen ceiling debris. Too weary to be bothered, Doug ascended the stairs anyway, finding the small refuge practically as he had left it, save for the ceiling tiles that were now scattered on the floor.

"Is it safe to rest here?" the cube queried.

"As much as it is anywhere, I think," he replied, bending to pick up a can of beans. "At least I thought to leave some food behind, even if I have nothing to heat it up on."

He ventured back out of the office to fill up one of his large water bottles with the water dripping down, finally able to quench his thirst and wet his dry lips. Returning, he forced himself to eat the cold beans before he curled up under the desk, wary of falling tiles, and fell into an uneasy, dreamless sleep.


	18. The Mural Room

**Unknown year.  
The Mural Room.**

Feeling a little more refreshed and capable after his sleep, Doug made his way up through the ceiling outside his refuge, the office that he had decorated with a stylised Schrödinger's Cat diorama. He needed to get to his broken mural room, but he didn't want to use the elevators in the test chambers. Although it was tough-going with his recovering leg, the dilapidated state of the facility made it much easier to travel between levels, provided one knew how to climb safely. Doug had learned the skill pretty quickly after GLaDOS had taken over.

Due to his body being in suspension, the medication he'd taken prior to their almost-escape was only just wearing off. He was starting to see shadows again, to hear whispers from voices that weren't real. The cube, which not only spoke with Chell's voice but seemed to have inherited her stubbornness as well, had remained audible throughout most of the time he'd been medicated. He was relying on it now to be the loudest voice, to keep the others at bay, to remind him that their suggestions were not helpful. The cube had saved him when he'd first picked it up. The voices had had him convinced that eating food would cause Chell's death. As a result, he'd gone almost a week without eating, terrified of giving in and accidentally killing her. The cube had helped him see that the voices were wrong, and he'd eventually plucked up the courage to open a tin of beans.

As he climbed, he formed the plan of action to report back to Wheatley. It was very simple. There was no need to overcomplicate matters. He just had a few things he needed to pick up before he went back to the Relaxation Centre.

The mural room, (which, strictly speaking, did not deserve the term 'room' anymore), was in a sorrier state than he remembered. It was partially flooded with stagnant rain water, and it had been invaded by plants, broken walkways, and a section of wall that was designed to produce portals for the tests, which had clearly tumbled down there while he'd been out. The floor was still covered with debris from when he'd left in a hurry. He worked steadily, picking things up, tossing the rubbish aside. He found several of his paintbrushes, which he pocketed, as well as the remains of his Art Therapy book. It was falling apart, half of its pages wiped blank by water damage. He ran his fingertips over its faded, familiar cover, feeling strangely sentimental. The book had served him well over the years, helping him cope with his condition by focusing his mind through art.

Unsure what to do with it, Doug set it down behind one of the sections of wall and continued with his scavenging. He found his toolbox, which had kept most of the water out, and a couple of first aid kits. Once again using the cube as a seat, he found a roll of gauze bandage and wrapped it tightly around his right thigh, tying it in a messy double knot.

"There," he muttered. "A bit more support should make it easier to get around. I wish the painkillers were in date, though."

"Don't touch them," the cube advised. "Judging by the plants, I'd say they're pretty drastically _out_ of date."

"Agreed."

He stood up, testing his leg. It still hurt, but it felt much more manageable, much less likely to buckle when he tried to walk. He sighed in relief, knowing that he now had a chance to rebuild its strength. Turning to smile at the cube, he found his eye caught by a glint of bright white outside the mural room.

"What's that?" he asked.

"What's what?"

He set off to investigate, wading through the ankle-deep water. It soaked his shoes and socks instantly, making him grimace. As he got closer he realised it was a portal device, lying almost-hidden under the surface of the water. He bent to pick it up, shaking it a little to get rid of the excess liquid. It seemed in remarkably good condition, but he was puzzled as to how it had ended up there. Tilting his head, he glanced up, seeing a few bright spots of daylight leaking through the ceiling high above.

"Must have fallen," he murmured, trying to get his bearings.

 _Is that test chamber two up there?_ he wondered idly.

He carried the device back to the murals, wiping it on his lab coat as he did so. It was just the single portal version, only firing blue portals, which linked with orange ones that were pre-placed in the chambers.

"You can take it back with us and give it to Chell!" the cube said excitedly.

"No," Doug replied firmly with a shake of his head. "I told you, I'm not going to see her."

"Well," it huffed back, "that's the stupidest decision you've ever made. Don't you think she'll _want_ to see you? She hasn't seen a friendly face in–"

"She'll see Wheatley, that's enough," he cut in.

"That's not the same. Stop being evasive, it's annoying."

"I'm not, I just..." He sighed, shrugging. "She won't want to see me, not when she learns what I did. But she deserves to know. If I meet her, I _will_ tell her. Which is why...I'd prefer not to see her."

"Has it occurred to you that she might understand?" the cube asked.

Of course it had occurred to him, but it seemed wishful thinking at best.

"I...I'm...just not convinced," he stuttered. "I'm...too afraid to find out, I guess."

"Ugh," the cube exclaimed, sounding utterly frustrated. "Why? You know her, you know how she's likely to react."

"Too many variables," Doug muttered. "I've made up my mind, don't push it, please. I'll leave the device here and tell Wheatley where she can find it. This level isn't far from the docking station for the Relaxation Centre. It's dark down here, though," he went on, thinking aloud. "Have to find some way of making it visible. If it even still works."

The cube seemed to have given up arguing. "If you fix that panel up there, you'll have an orange portal to test it with."

"Good point."

Doug rifled through the toolbox, picking out what he needed, then he awkwardly scrambled up to the listing walkway that the section of wall was leaning on. He spent a calm half hour making it work again, grinning in triumph when the fiery oval burst into life on the concrete, its surface rippling and opaque.

Cautiously easing himself down, he double-checked the device, then fired into the nearest mural. With a pop, the blue oval appeared on the wall, immediately linking with the orange one.

"It works!" he yelled, hopping through the portal and back again.

"Well done," the cube praised.

Stepping through again, Doug briefly disconnected the orange portal so that both fizzled out, then fixed it so that Chell would have an easy exit when she picked up the device. Returning to the flooded ground, he set about rewiring the broken floor panels, eventually managing to get them to spiral upward in a kind of sculpture-like staircase. He placed the portal gun at the top.

"There," he said, descending. "That should draw her attention. Although...a few arrows dotted around wouldn't hurt. You know, just in case."

The cube waited patiently for him as he splashed about, drawing guiding arrows on the walls in various directions. Then, leaving his paintings behind, Doug made his way back to the Relaxation Centre.

Wheatley was agitated when he got there, grumbling for several minutes about how long he had been away. He soon shut up when Doug started to explain his plan, however.

"I've kept it simple," the scientist began, knowing full well that where Wheatley was concerned, simple was the best way to do things.

"Okay, okay," the core said, bobbing up and down. "What do you need me to do?"

"You have the most important job," Doug told him, trying not to smile as the robot puffed himself out a little in pride. "Later, you need to wake up Chell and the other test subject. Guide them to the breaker room beneath the A.I. chamber and..."

Wheatley's optic had shrunk to a pin prick in fear. "The...uh...main chamber, did you say?"

"I did," Doug said firmly. "It will be fine, she's switched off."

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes, I saw it myself."

Wheatley looked away briefly, then faced him again. "Okay...if you definitely _know_ that she's, uh, she's off, then...I'll do it."

"I know she's off," Doug repeated, "but I'll go ahead and check, if you like. If there are any problems, I'll come find you. If you don't hear from me, proceed as planned."

"How will I know you've actually checked?" Wheatley asked, optic narrowing suspiciously.

Inwardly sighing at the core's attitude, Doug decided to humour him to keep things easy. "I was planning on going that way anyway, to leave some arrows for Chell to follow. You'll see those."

"Okay. Then what?"

"Take the test subjects to the breaker room, summon the escape elevator. Then...leave." He shrugged, conscious of how anti-climactic it sounded.

Wheatley gave another nodding movement. "Okay, sounds doable. What will you be doing?"

"I'll find another way out," Doug said simply.

"Aww there's no need for that, mate! We can all fit in the lift, no problem."

Doug sent him a lacklustre smile. "I know, but I'd rather wait until you're all out first. You know, just in case there are any problems. I'm not expecting any," he added hastily, seeing Wheatley's optic move sharply. "But...you know. Just in case."

"Right...okay then." He began to move along the management rail. "I'll go wake her up, then!"

"No, no, no!" Doug stammered, darting forward, hands outstretched. "You need to wait. Wait...I don't know, three hours? _Then_ wake them up. Both of them, okay?"

"Got it," Wheatley assured him.

"When you get to the breaker room, don't press any of the switches except the one for the elevator, okay?" Doug said, fixing the core with an adamant look. "I'm not sure what they all do."

"Okay, noted."

Nodding, Doug bit his lip in thought. "I think that's about it. I'll get going to check the way is safe. You should be able to get across the Relaxation Centre to the docking station. There's a portal device not far from there. I've already checked the route, it's pretty straightforward." He frowned up at the core, who was absentmindedly looking up at the hole-ridden ceiling. "Are you listening?"

"Huh?" Wheatley said quickly, turning his optic Doug's way. "Yes! Docking station, portal device, got it."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

Doug fixed him with a sharp look, holding up his index finger. "Above all else, do not – and I mean _do not_ – mention me, even if Chell asks you. Just...pretend you haven't seen me. Okay?"

"Um...okay then. Can't say I understand why, but okay."

"Good. Thanks." He gave a nod in acknowledgement.

Wheatley bobbed back, then brightened. "Well, see you on the surface then, hopefully."

Doug raised his brows in mild surprise. "I guess you will. Good luck."

"Won't need it," Wheatley said confidently. "Everything will be fine."

Not quite sharing his optimistic opinion, Doug smiled anyway. "Let's hope so." With that, he and the cube left the Relaxation Centre, destination: the main A.I. chamber.

* * *

Waking up was a strange experience for Chell. Her body came back to life gradually, leaving her ample time to lie still and listen to the unfamiliar sounds around her. There was a voice, but it was fuzzy. Her head ached from where she'd hit the ground after being pulled up after GLaDOS, and there was the metallic taste of blood in her mouth, a cloying at the back of her throat. When she remembered how to open her eyes, she saw a dimly-lit, dilapidated motel room that smelt of damp. She knew at once that it wasn't a motel room. There was a management rail in the ceiling.

She didn't remember what had occurred to bring her back into the facility. Anger flared inside her as she thought about the escape she'd almost had. To wake up back again was a total slap in the face.

Chell shifted carefully off the bed she found herself on, stretching her tender limbs. Everything hurt. Her right wrist was aching where she'd landed on it. The graze on her head wasn't bleeding, which was promising, but there were painful abrasions on the back of her legs. She lightly ran her fingertips over the peeled-back skin on her heels, seeing the cuts dotted with tiny pieces of gravel. Someone, or some _thing_ , had dragged her across the parking lot. The springs she'd worn were missing, and her calves were streaked with dried blood from the deep scrapes they had left behind. They'd been pulled off harshly, if she was judging correctly, and the wounds looked messy enough to scar. She wished she'd made it to a pod. The pods were designed to heal a test subject's wounds.

Another voice cut the first one off, accompanied by a tapping at the door. Chell froze, eyes wide, then she realised that _this_ voice was familiar. She'd heard it dozens of times. On stiff legs, she darted to the door, tugging it open.

"Arrgh! Oh god!" Wheatley yelled in shock, his optic illuminating Chell's look of disbelief. "You look terri...um...good. Looking good, actually."

The throwback to how he'd used to greet people to her office made her smile in reflex, the motion catching her off guard. Her face felt strangely numb and stiff, as if her muscles hadn't formed any prominent expressions in a long time. She wrinkled her nose, scrunching up her features in an attempt to loosen them.

"Are you okay?" Wheatley asked, scooting forward into the room.

A valid question, considering the faces she'd been pulling. A stray flicker of amusement flashed through her brain as she wondered what he thought she was doing. She quashed it, mindful of her current situation. There would be time for amusement later. She hoped.

"I'm fine," Chell said.

Or rather, tried to.

Nothing came out. As Wheatley rattled on, oblivious, she silently cleared her throat and repeated the phrase. Still nothing.

 _Okay_ , she told herself. _Don't panic. It's probably just a waking-up problem, it will come back._

She swallowed hard, glancing back up at the core, whose tirade of words had yet to come to a halt. He was interrupted by a warning announcement that called for emergency evacuation, then quickly told her to stay calm. It seemed a tall order for Chell to stay anything even remotely resembling calm, so she didn't bother trying.

Wheatley vanished up into the ceiling, adjusting some kind of control that caused the room to lurch. Caught off guard, Chell stumbled against the wall and stayed there until it stopped. When Wheatley reappeared, he again launched into a convoluted speech that he could have easily summed up in a third of the time. Feeling as though her mind had suddenly become a whirlpool that spun fragments of emotion around snippets of worrying information, Chell didn't take in everything he was talking about.

"Do you understand what I'm saying at all? Is any of this making any sense?" he asked her, taking a break. "Just tell me, just say 'yes'."

"I don't think I can," she tried cautiously, already expecting the silence. It would save them both time if he understood what was happening with her voice. She gave a small hop to get his attention.

"Okay," he commented seriously, "what you're doing there is jumping. Um...you just...you just jumped. But never mind, say 'apple'. 'Apple'."

"I. Am. _Trying. To_ ," she mouthed exasperatedly. Touching her throat, she added, "I. Can't. Speak."

But Wheatley was clearly not programmed to lip read. Declaring her efforts 'close enough', he once more disappeared through the hatch in the ceiling to begin their escape.

After a terrifying, destructive ride across the Relaxation Centre, Chell found herself looking down through the crumbled wall of her once-intact room at one of the short-term chambers she'd been in before.

Wheatley was keen for her to leave straight away to find the portal gun, claiming that they'd have an easier escape with it. While Chell agreed, she knew she had to take care of herself first. There was a small bathroom off to one side of the room's short corridor that was largely undamaged. Safely shut up in there, she washed the grazes on her legs, making sure they were as least likely to get infected as she could manage. She found spare clothing in there too. It was only a replacement orange jumpsuit, but it was clean, so she pulled it on, tying the arms around her waist. She tugged an Aperture logo-stamped vest over her own top, feeling that layers were a sensible idea. Then, finally, she reached for a pair of bizarre-looking boots that incorporated the leg springs she'd worn before. From what she'd seen through the hole in the wall, she would be jumping down into another testing track, so the boots would be essential. With her scrapes and bruises, however, they were far from comfortable. Still, she knew they were a lesser of evils.

Thus attired, Chell returned to the main room, where Wheatley was urging her to head on her way. She understood his haste, as an announcement about the reactor core safeguards being non-functional had put her on edge. However, it would have been reckless to set off without looking for supplies first.

"I'm going," she tried to say, her voice once again refusing to cooperate. She brushed her fingers down her neck anxiously, wondering what had caused her hopefully-temporary muteness. She suspected the neurotoxin, which had coated her throat and lungs regardless of her breath-holding, and had made her feel as if her skin had been burning.

She huffed in frustration. She had so many questions she wanted to ask Wheatley, but he remained ignorant of her clumsy signs. Better that she just get on with escaping until she could find paper and a pen. Giving up on trying to make the core understand her, Chell turned and stepped through the hole in the wall.

"That's the spirit!" Wheatley said cheerfully.

Chell gave him a thumbs up, then dropped through the glass ceiling into the stasis chamber below.

As she made her way through tests she'd solved before, she began to appreciate how long she'd been in suspension. The facility was a warzone, its crumbled walls showing the areas behind the test chambers, the hole-ridden ceilings laced through with tangled vines. The whole effect was unnerving to Chell – who was now more certain than ever that everyone she cared about was dead – but it also made her less apprehensive about retracing her steps through the tests, as there were clear escape routes in every chamber.

When she met up with Wheatley again, in the room that was supposed to house the portal device, she gave a half-hearted attempt at a greeting, but it was no use. Her voice was gone, and she was terrified that she'd never get it back. Without vanity, she knew that she was an attractive young woman with pleasing features, but she relied on her voice to make her stubborn, sharp-witted personality her most defining attribute. The last thing she wanted to be was a silent, vacant-looking, pretty girl.

Her missing voice was just the latest item on her growing list of concerns. She was surprised that she hadn't gone insane with the amount of worries she had spinning through her head.

 _But then,_ she thought, _how can you even measure insanity in a place like this?_

At Wheatley's insistence, she ventured cautiously into the centre of the room to search for the portal gun. The floor gave an ominous jolt and Chell hastily backpedalled. Before she could reach the outskirts, the tiles gave way, plummeting down with the portal gun's podium and the ill-fated test subject in tow. She gave a silent yell as she fell, landing thankfully on her feet in a shallow lake of musty-smelling water.

"Hello?" Wheatley's anxious tones drifted down to where she stood.

Chell tilted her head back to see the small, square patch of light, the only indication of where she'd come from. She didn't like the look of the climb, especially taking her sore wrist into account, and decided to take an alternative route. No doubt she'd stumble across another test chamber soon enough.

"Can you see the portal gun?" the core went on. "Also, are you alive?" he added quickly. "That's important, should have asked that first."

Chell rolled her eyes, unsurprised to hear his tactlessness and lack of apology. She'd grown used to the less pleasant aspects of his personality over the months he'd worked in her office. The fact that they were so…human…still made her uncomfortable.

"I'm...do you know what I'm going to do? I'm going to work on the assumption that you're still alive and I'm just going to wait for you up ahead," Wheatley called down. "I'll wait - I'll wait one hour. Then I'll come back and, assuming I can locate your dead body, I'll bury you. All right? Brilliant. Go team! See you in an hour. Hopefully. If you're not...dead."

Silence fell above. Chell glanced around, letting her eyes adjust to the gloom. As they did so, she spotted an arrow scribbled on a propped-up concrete wall panel. She splashed over to it, sweeping her palm over the stone's dotted surface. The ink was dry. Chell frowned, softly huffing. She wasn't sure what she'd really expected, but after finding graffiti before that had been fresh… She guessed part of her was still hoping that someone else had survived besides her.

She moved on from the arrow, walking in the direction it had pointed. The narrow space widened out into a clearing, dominated by wall-sized boards displaying murals. As she got closer, Chell realised that they _were_ walls, just separated by the explosions that had wrecked the facility. In the centre of the space, floor panels twisted upwards in a kind of staircase, holding the portal device just above eye level.

 _That's…not an accident_ , she reflected as she ascended. _Somebody did this on purpose,_ after _I took GLaDOS out._

She knelt to pick up the device, noting the pre-placed orange portal already activated.

 _Somebody…_ is _…still alive_ , she thought hesitantly, feeling her heart start to thump quicker as she considered the idea. _Or they were, just after I…_

Her wrist protested as she lifted the gun and she let out a little hiss of pain.

 _Not good._

Wondering how she was going to manage to hold the device and use it properly, she awkwardly tucked it under one arm and turned to make her way down the panels. She hadn't yet taken a proper look at the murals, and the sight of the piece she found herself facing made her stop in her tracks.

It was unmistakably her image, a portrait painted in haste but with care. She looked tranquil, her eyes closed, her arms gently outstretched. The likeness was very good, despite the stylised technique.

Numbly, she sat down on the panels, the device lying forgotten across her lap. The painting style was not altogether unfamiliar. A whisper of suspicion crossed her mind, one that had passed that way before and been instantly dismissed on grounds of wishful thinking. Chell had initially been under the impression that the graffiti she'd found in the test chambers had been put there for the benefit of any test subject. Then, as she'd given more thought to the identity of the person responsible, she had briefly begun to consider a different possibility.

 _He promised me he'd survive. He promised._

Leaving the portal device on the panels, Chell walked the rest of the way down and examined the murals up close, not sure what to think. The signs were there and her instinct was shouting at her, but she wasn't sure. She needed to be sure. Then, as if answering her wishes, she spotted something behind one of the panels. Crouching, she reached for it and pulled Doug's tattered Art Therapy book into the light. Her mouth fell open in astonishment as she was finally granted the answers. Then she promptly burst into tears.

She'd been successful in holding back her emotions to an extent, obstinately not allowing herself to feel overwhelmed, even though she knew she was out of her depth. Now, at the point of realising that it had been her best friend guiding her, helping her get past turrets, leaving her food and water so that she could keep going, she cried. She cried in relief that he'd survived, in fear that time had taken him as it had taken the facility, in guilt as she remembered calling him a cowardly asshole when her anger had flared, in sympathy as she imagined what his life had been like on the run, and, finally, in hurt confusion that he had never shown himself.

Then, as her defences were down, she cried for her father and friends, and everyone else who had fallen to GLaDOS's regime. She hadn't yet had confirmation of her father's death, but she knew the truth. She'd known ever since she'd first woken up on the testing track, she just hadn't been able to face it.

The flow of tears halted as she released all her bottled-up feelings, leaving her drained but calmer. As before, Doug was the person she placed her faith in. A spark of hope clamoured for attention as she considered whether it was possible that he was still alive somewhere in the complex. She wanted to believe, but she tried to keep her theories rational. She'd just find herself facing crushing disappointment otherwise.

 _I can't even shout for him_ , she realised bitterly. _And there's no way I'd get Wheatley to understand enough to do it for me_.

Chell got to her feet, leaving the book where it was. Wiping her cheeks, she wandered back to the portal device, remembering that Wheatley would only wait an hour. They were on their way to find an exit, a mission she very much approved of.

 _If I get out, will Doug do the same?_ she wondered, biting her lip, deciding, for the moment, to hope for the best and assume he was alive. _Probably. That's what I'd do._

Her best bet was to get out. She could wait for Doug on the surface and plan her next move from there. She knew that if she was waiting too long, she'd have to rethink, but she didn't want to consider that until she was forced to.

Resolved, Chell reached for the portal gun, gritting her teeth in anticipation of her wrist hurting. Something else caught her eye, distracting her instantly. It was a first aid box, almost unnoticeable in the shadow of the broken gantry leading out of the room. She hurried over to it, unable to suppress a grin when she found a couple of rolls of gauze bandage. She stuffed one of them in the pocket of her jumpsuit and unwrapped the other. Gripping one end with her teeth, she managed to bind her wrist tightly, immediately feeling the difference the support gave. When she lifted the portal device it still hurt, but it was functional, and she no longer felt as if her wrist would give way under the weight.

She shot a blue portal into the nearest wall, stepping through onto the listing walkway. With a last look back at her portrait, Chell left the paintings behind and continued on her way.


	19. The Resurrected Queen

**Unknown year.  
The Resurrected Queen.**

There was an abundance of hiding places in the ruined central chamber now that it was such a mess. Doug concealed himself behind a pile of debris, crouching down to wait. Chell and Wheatley had just passed through the room and were now traversing the walkways below, on their way to the breaker room. He'd silently followed, entering the room once he'd heard them jump down to the lower level. The cube had advised against pursuing them so closely, but Doug wanted to make sure that all was well. He wanted to _see_ them leave the facility. Things were already deviating from the plan. He had no idea where the second test subject was, and Wheatley had steered Chell onto a different path to the one he'd intended her to take. Not that that mattered so much now that she was on her way to freedom, but still…It made Doug uneasy.

GLaDOS lay not far from his hiding place, as silent and defeated as she'd been the first time he'd seen her fallen chassis. He couldn't bring himself to look at her for too long. The nervous, paranoid part of him half expected her dark optic to flicker back to life and catch him in its cold, amber glow, like a frightened deer in car headlights.

"Not long now," the cube commented, its tone bordering on jumpy.

"No, not long," he answered softly. He didn't want to raise his voice, although he wasn't quite sure why.

The moments of stillness dragged on as he pondered what was happening in the breaker room below. The control for the elevator wasn't too hard to find, considering that every lever was labelled clearly. Belatedly, he wondered whether it might have been better if he'd summoned the lift himself and had just asked Wheatley to lead the test subjects to it. But although the explosions had ripped the back wall apart and made the route down to the breaker room accessible, the collapsed staircase had put it out of bounds for someone without leg springs.

The sound of an alarm made him violently jump, and he peered around the debris with wide eyes. A hatch down to the breaker room was sliding open, pushing small bits of wreckage aside.

"What did he _do_?" Doug muttered fearfully, hearing a mechanical whirring steadily getting louder.

The top of Chell's head appeared out of the hatch and he dropped back down behind the debris before she rose higher and caught sight of him.

The automatic announcer declared, "Power-up initiated."

"Okay, don't panic!" Wheatley yelled, not sounding as if he intended to take his own advice.

Doug risked another look over the debris, hands shaking in barely-repressed terror. GLaDOS was moving, pulling the pieces of herself back together like broken limbs stitched back on a doll. Then panels shot up around the hatch, blocking the A.I., Chell and Wheatley from view.

 _No, no, no!_

"Run!" the cube screeched.

Doug was already moving, then abruptly stopped, gritting his teeth as he pivoted.

 _No_ , he thought determinedly. _Running is what I've been doing._

"Don't be stupid," the cube berated him.

Ignoring it, he hurried back, this time leaping over the debris to hide behind the raised panels. Wheatley was wittering as usual, his frantic voice barely audible over the sounds of GLaDOS's healing chassis.

"Power-up complete," the announcer stated.

Trembling, Doug crouched low behind the panels, poised to move when he needed to, unsure what he could really do to help. He was acting purely on instinct.

"Hello!" Wheatley shouted cheerily.

Then came the voice that had haunted his nightmares, the voice that had stalked him for three years while he lived in hiding.

"Oh. It's _you_."

There was more expression to her tone than he remembered. Her morality core was long gone.

"You _know_ her?" Wheatley put in, his confusion evident.

Doug had never explained to him exactly which human had taken GLaDOS down.

"It's been a long time," she went on. "How have you been? I've been really busy being dead. You know, after you _murdered me_!"

Doug cringed at the words, wishing he could see how Chell was reacting, hoping that she was still as strong as she had ever been. Desperately he wracked his brain for a plan, searching for a way to get her away from GLaDOS's gaze.

"You did what?!" cried Wheatley.

A new sound dragged Doug's attention upwards and he automatically ducked as two claws descended from the ceiling. He heard Wheatley's yelp of surprise, no doubt as he was tugged off the console he'd been plugged into. There was a clatter as Chell dropped the portal device. He heard it land just on the other side of the panel. The woman herself remained impressively silent, although he heard her raspy breaths as she struggled against the claw's grip.

"Oh no, no, no!" Wheatley was yelling, clearly terrified.

"Okay, look," GLaDOS said matter-of-factly. "We've both said a lot of things that you're going to regret."

There was an alarming crunching sound, followed by another short cry of surprise from Wheatley. Then Doug flinched as something flew overhead, landing with a crash in a pile of broken metal girders. He recognised Wheatley's crumpled form, his outer shell split, his optic dark.

GLaDOS continued with barely a pause. "But I think we can put our differences behind us. For science. You monster."

The other claw moved away and Doug risked a glance around the side of the panels, certain that GLaDOS's attention would be fixed on Chell. The claw had grabbed her by the arm and was lifting her across the chamber. She was kicking furiously, trying to free herself.

"You can't help her right now," the cube told him firmly. "Take your chance while She isn't looking."

As silently as he could, Doug ran out from the panel and snatched up Chell's fallen portal gun before ducking back behind his shelter.

"I will say, though, that since you went to all the trouble of waking me up, you must really, really love to test," GLaDOS went on. "I love it too. There's just one small thing we need to take care of first."

While she talked, Doug hurried over and picked up Wheatley by one of his handles, praying that all his vital components were still inside him. The end of GLaDOS's speech sounded ominous, and he turned to see what was happening, darting forward to look around the panels.

The claw was holding Chell above the now-open incinerator. As he watched, it let go, and she dropped like a stone down a well.

"No!"

The cry tore out of him before he had time to consider the wisdom of it. GLaDOS rotated lazily, fixing him with her yellow-eyed stare.

"Don't think I didn't know you were there, Rat Man," she said calmly. "It's okay, I have plans for you too."

"Move!" yelled the cube.

Doug shot forward, firing a portal into the panels. He dove through it, hearing the claw descending behind him. His momentum carried him up, out of a piece of wall that was propped up on the floor. The awkward angle made him stumble, but he still managed to shoot at the nearest wall. The blue portal opened there with a pop, cutting off all routes from the main chamber. Breathing heavily, Doug lay still for a while, propped up uncomfortably against the cube on his back. Glancing around, he saw that he was in a test chamber, number seven, next to a wall that had almost completely collapsed. There was an observation office window nearby, its glass webbed with cracks. Doug mentally planned his route up to it.

"That was close," the cube said shakily.

"Too close," he agreed. "And Chell…she's… She's still alive, she has to be. GLaDOS wouldn't just kill her only test subject, would she?"

"I doubt it. Unless she was planning to use us instead."

"No," he said adamantly. "She's alive. You heard what GLaDOS said. She wants her to test again."

"So why send her down to the incinerator?"

"I don't know. I guess GLaDOS knows something we don't." Getting clumsily to his feet, he added, "We need to get moving. The plan has changed."

"And gotten more difficult," the cube huffed.

"Yes," Doug conceded, "but we're not giving up."

Working quickly, he drew his screwdriver from the bag on his back and began dismantling the contraption that made the pre-placed orange portals.

"What are you doing?" the cube asked indignantly. "You just said we had to move."

"And we will. After I modify this portal gun. We'll get around much easier if we have a dual device."

The cube fell silent as he worked. It didn't take him long to remove components from the panel and upgrade the device. He knew its workings inside out, and knew exactly what he was doing. When it was done, he picked up a fist-sized lump of concrete from the pile of rubble in the corner, judged its weight, then threw it at the observation window. The damaged glass shattered at once.

On the wall, the security camera suddenly shone red, lifting from its deactivated position to follow his movements.

"There you are," GLaDOS said through the room's speakers. "I knew it wouldn't take long before you broke something. Honestly, between you and that murderer downstairs, it's a wonder this entire facility hasn't fallen apart."

"Is she alive?" he asked, aware that he was perhaps revealing more than was wise.

"What makes you think you're in any position to ask questions, Rat? You worked with the people who built me, you helped that mute lunatic escape and find her way to killing me. Why should I tell you anything?"

Slipping his hand through Wheatley's top handle, he gripped the portal gun with both hands and stood up, the silent personality core dangling from his wrist like an oversized novelty bracelet.

"Is. She. Alive?" he repeated in a growl.

"My purpose is to test," GLaDOS told him scathingly. "For that I need a test subject. So what do you think?"

"Thank you," Doug replied with false politeness.

He fired an orange portal through the broken office window, shooting the blue one under his feet. Not yet used to the rapid flip of gravity, he staggered ineptly, grabbing the desk to find his balance again.

"Really?" she spoke up. "Why do you even bother?"

Struck by the question, Doug stepped up to the window to ensure that she would hear him.

"Because humans behave in all sorts of ways," he said calmly. "And you know what? It's no surprise that you act the way you do. You were faced with some terrible examples of humanity."

"Let's see…damaging company property, conspiring to commit murder, aiding a murderer… You're no better, Rat Man."

"I never said I was," he retorted. "But believe me, if I could have reasoned with you, I would have. It's kind of hard to negotiate when the corridors are full of neurotoxin."

He didn't wait around to discover if she had an answer to that, instead stepping out into the derelict pathway beyond the office, pulling the door closed behind him.

"You shouldn't have done that," the cube chided gently. "You shouldn't have given her ammunition."

"Shh," he soothed. "It's done. And Chell is alive."

He ran steadily, negotiating the corridors, finally ducking into the nearest empty office. There, he lay Wheatley on the desk and examined the extent of the damage. It looked mostly cosmetic, but he was no expert. His theory was that the core's systems had shut down as a safety precaution when the outer shell was breached.

"Shouldn't be too hard to fix," he muttered to himself.

A voice rose up to shout him down, but he ignored it, focusing on the cube instead.

"Why are we doing this again?" it asked. "It's his fault that GLaDOS is awake."

"I know," he agreed, "but he's our only link to Chell and our only ally."

"That's not comforting."

"Look at it this way," Doug explained as he worked, "Wheatley can open various panels in the test chambers and give Chell an escape route."

"Yes, but there has to be somewhere for her to go once she gets out of the chambers. It might take some time to find."

"That's okay. She knows what she's doing."

The office fell silent as Doug concentrated, utilising his skills as best as he was able. Finally, the core's optic lit up azure once more and he gave a yell.

"Arrgh! Oh my god, oh my...get off me, you stupid, bloody..."

"Wheatley!" Doug cut in sharply.

"Get off! I'll…I'll bite your legs off, you vicious…"

"Hey!" he tried again, giving the core a little shake. "It's me. You're okay. Calm down."

Stopping his rant mid-sentence, Wheatley paused to take in what had been said. His optic sparked, causing him to wince.

"Why can't I see properly?" he asked.

"Your optic cracked," Doug explained. "I wasn't able to replace it, sorry. You'll just have to deal with it."

"Ah." The optic sparked again, causing the core to look around nervously. "Okay then. I, uh, I think I can do that."

"Have you settled down now?" Doug enquired, folding his arms.

"Err….yes. Yes, I have. Sorry about the, um, the…"

"The 'I'll bite your legs off'?" Doug said helpfully, unable to hold back an amused smile.

Wheatley looked down briefly before fixing his blue gaze on the scientist. "I panicked," he explained. "Not, uh, not actually something I can do: biting legs off. On account of not actually having teeth. Or, in fact, a mouth."

Doug nodded, still smiling.

"Glad he pointed _that_ out," the cube muttered sardonically.

He shot it a warning frown.

"Where are we?" Wheatley asked, glancing around.

"Just an office. It's not important." He leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. "Listen, Wheatley, what happened back there? I was in the main chamber, I saw GLaDOS wake up."

The core shifted his optic to one side guiltily. "I don't know," he said. "One minute we were looking for the escape thingy, next the whole bloody console is moving. I tried to stop it, but it just kept moving up. Hit all of the switches in the breaker room. Then…well, you know the rest."

Doug scrubbed his face with his hands, suddenly feeling incredibly weary. His leg was throbbing again now that his adrenaline levels had dropped.

"And the second test subject?" he asked, his tone betraying his pessimistic outlook of that particular man's fate. "What happened there?"

"Um…well, that wasn't actually my fault," said Wheatley, looking down. "I woke him up, like you said, tried to explain what was going on. He wasn't having any of it. Just kept yelling at me about wanting to see the manager. I told him everyone was dead and that he'd better stick with me cos I was escaping, but he just…ran off. Disappeared."

"People don't just disappear, Wheatley."

"They do when there's a bloody great hole in the floor," the core stated bluntly. "I followed him round the corner and saw that the walkway had broken halfway down the stairs. I reckon he ran right off the end of it."

Doug pressed his lips together in a grim line, suspecting that the robot's theory was correct. "Poor guy," he muttered.

There was a brief moment of silence as each waited for the other to speak.

"Okay, look," Doug spoke up at last. "We need to get Chell out of the test chambers. We're still going to escape, but we need her before we try."

"Why?"

"Because I say so."

Wheatley scrutinised him, his demeanour unreadable. Then the core made a small movement that somehow managed to look like a shrug. "Okay, fine. What's the new plan?"

Doug was still figuring that part out, but there was no way he was going to share that with Wheatley. "We'll get you back on the management rails. Then I need you to find her and try and make contact without GLaDOS seeing you. Let her know that you're trying to break her out. Okay?"

"Okay," Wheatley agreed.

"If she asks about…" Doug began.

"She won't," the core interjected.

"Huh?"

"She doesn't speak, mate."

Doug furrowed his brow in confusion. "What do you mean she doesn't speak?"

"Exactly what I said," Wheatley told him with a subtle, irritated huffing sound. "She's silent all the time. Rude, if you ask me. I thought we were friends."

"But…that doesn't make any sense, why would she not talk to you? She knows you."

" _I_ don't know. I think it's the brain damage, myself," Wheatley mused conversationally. "You know, not to be, uh, insensitive or anything, but there is a slight chance of her having contracted serious brain damage and all, so I would think that this whole silence thing is a by-product of that. I mean, it makes sense, doesn't it?"

Doug shook his head firmly, sitting back. "No, no. The brain damage thing is a lie. Employees were using the cryo-chambers as napping rooms, so the management came up with that as a deterrent."

"Oh, what?" Wheatley scoffed incredulously. "Surely you don't believe that."

Not feeling up to having an argument with the contrary sphere, Doug ignored the comment. "Well, like before, don't mention me."

"What am I s'posed to tell her though? You know, about how I'm...not dead."

"Make something up," Doug said with a shrug. He got to his feet, swinging the cube onto his back, then picked up Wheatley with the portal gun's gravity field. "Come on, we need to figure out where she is."

Leaving the office behind, the scientist, the cube and the core ventured towards the testing tracks, searching for the Queen Bee's favourite test subject.


	20. Near Misses

**Unknown year.  
Near Misses.**

After figuring out which testing track Chell was on and reattaching Wheatley to the management rail, Doug once again found himself running ahead with the intention of depositing supplies in some of his now-exposed hiding places. He'd been against it at first, or rather the cube had, not comfortable with the broken-down state the facility was in. Not only was it harder to avoid GLaDOS's cameras with the crumbled walls, but travelling between chambers had gotten more dangerous due to the aged structures. Still, he'd persevered, his unwillingness to abandon Chell overpowering his apprehension.

Wheatley had yet to find a blind spot in which to contact her, but Doug had caught glimpses of him travelling the rail alongside the tests, keeping an eye on them both. He'd seen Chell once, entering chamber two just as he was leaving it. Although she was bearing up well, her expression betrayed her anxiety. There was a raw edge of sorrow to her demeanour too, which he attributed to grief for her father.

"It might help if she knew you were alive," the cube spoke up as he added a full tin of beans to the row of empty cans in one of his dens.

"What am I supposed to do?" he asked quietly, mindful of the gaping hole in the wall that led to test chamber three. "Write 'hi Chell, I'm alive lol' on a wall?"

The cube snorted at his heavy sarcasm. "It would get the job done."

"No," he said firmly. "She's seen my graffiti. She probably thinks that whoever wrote all this stuff is crazy. And she'd be right." He glanced up at the murals he'd painted in the room, images that made very little logical sense. During a long-ago period of restlessness, he'd managed to get his favourite song to loop on the radio, and had incorporated the lyrics into his work. The song had seemed to apply to him, which had been depressing, but at the same time he'd found its melody soothing.

"You need to get over thinking she'd judge you," the cube told him sternly. "She knows better than that, and you _know_ she does. Let her know you're alive. She needs something to help her keep going. Tenacity alone won't always cut it."

Doug sighed, crouching to avoid being seen by the security camera in the test chamber, and sneaked over to the opposite side of the room. He switched the radio on, letting the music calm him, its familiar words once again questioning whether he'd given up. As before, he felt determined to prove them wrong.

"I can't just…" he began, trailing off almost at once. "I already told Wheatley not to mention me to her, so doing this just seems…"

"She won't know everything," the cube countered. "Just that you're alive."

The cube had a point, as it often did when he let his fear control him. He wanted nothing more than to stay there and simply wait for Chell to arrive, which he knew wouldn't be long, as she was only one chamber behind. But he couldn't bring himself to face her, knowing that he'd been the one to place her life in danger. Although he was afraid, the thought of leaving her no clue as to his survival made him feel almost panicky.

Before he could change his mind, he drew a pen from his pocket and scurried over to the can of beans he'd left for her, bringing it back over to the 'safe' side of the den. Hand trembling just a little, he pressed the pen nib to the stark white label and wrote 'Don't give up'.

"That's it?" the cube squawked.

He shot it a look over his shoulder. "It's enough."

"But how will she know who…"

"If she hears that song," he interrupted, "she'll know."

The sound of GLaDOS's voice emanating from the speaker outside the door startled him. He dropped the can and the pen next to the radio, hurrying over to the broken wall panels on the far side of the room. Carefully, mindful of the murky, bottomless drop below, he scrambled out of the den and climbed up the girders and mechanical arms on the outside of the chamber until he was safely perched on top of it. It was slow going, what with the fading ache in his leg and the extra weight of the portal gun, tucked in securely next to the cube, but he made it unseen.

"Now what?" the cube asked.

"On to the next one," Doug replied softly.

* * *

Ever since GLaDOS had dropped her unceremoniously into the incinerator room, Chell had been wracking her brain for an escape plan. So far, she hadn't had much luck, settling back into testing compliantly to keep the A.I. appeased until she thought of something. Although there were still places where she could have gotten out of the test chambers, the sheer drop down put her off trying to leave that way. Despite the boots she was wearing, the fall looked like a death sentence.

GLaDOS wasn't allowing her a moment's peace, constantly prodding and berating her about the fact that Chell had shut her down, resorting to cheap shots about her 'horrible' personality and her adoption. It seemed that the powerful supercomputer had conveniently forgotten that _she_ had been the one to attack first. Chell let the comments wash over her, not allowing them to rattle her. She had bigger concerns than GLaDOS's petty opinions.

A hole in the wall caught her attention as she entered test chamber three, and she darted over to it, wondering if it was an exit. It wasn't, but it was interesting nonetheless. Dropping down into the once-hidden room, she glanced around, taking in the empty bean cans, the outlandish murals on the walls and, most of all, the radio that was playing something other than the irritating Samba tune she'd heard before.

 _Wait,_ she thought suddenly, _I know this song._

Doug had driven her crazy with it once, playing it on a loop on his car stereo when they'd taken a lunch break outside and retreated to the car to avoid the rain.

Her stomach gave a lurch, and she rationally tried to figure out if it was possible for the radio to have been working the whole time she'd been in suspension. It was unlikely. She crouched down to investigate it, checking for wet paint or fingerprints. The toe of her boot sent a tin rolling. Letting go of the portal device, she reached out and stopped it, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise as she realised it was unopened.

She set the device on the ground and picked up the tin, wondering if it had been forgotten about or left deliberately. It was as she was turning it over in her hands that she saw the message, the handwriting shaky but still familiar.

Chell exhaled noisily, closing her eyes briefly. A quick search of the immediate area yielded a pen, the same kind of cheap ball-point that was once found in every office.

 _Why would he have left that behind?_ she wondered inwardly. _Is it just that he left in a hurry, or does he expect me to use it?_

When she looked back at the writing, she saw that her thumb had smudged the end of the D and her heart did a little flip.

 _Still drying_ , she thought elatedly. _He left because...I entered the chamber. He_ is _alive._

She closed her eyes again, grinning stupidly in relief, then took another cursory glance at the paintings. There was nowhere on them that would show her writing clearly. She would take a leaf out of Doug's book and use the cans. Lunging across the room, she snatched one up and pondered what to write. There was so much she wanted to say. In the end, though, she settled for 'Please don't run. Let's escape.' Chances were he wouldn't return, but she resolved to repeat the message at every opportunity.

 _He's running ahead of me. So I need to catch up._

Chell wasn't stupid. She realised that he wasn't medicated, and she didn't know how it had affected him. The dioramas on the walls were not the work of an entirely stable mind, and yet he was leaving her supplies that she needed. He'd obviously kept up with his art therapy, which suggested he'd also continued the calming techniques that his regular therapist had taught him. There was a chance that he'd maintained some semblance of his old life. Feeling a little selfish, she clung to that hope. She wasn't sure how she'd get through to him otherwise.

Spurred on by fresh motivation, she solved the test quickly and progressed to the next chamber, the one after that, and the one after that. She found a few more of Doug's refuges, some with water and food in, but no new signs that he'd been there recently enough to catch.

GLaDOS had responded to her new determined speed by complaining that she was solving the tests faster than they could be built. Chell knew that that was not strictly true, since what GLaDOS was doing was making the tests usable again rather than building new ones, but she was well acquainted with how her robotic adversary stretched the truth. With more to occupy her mind, she was finding it even easier to ignore GLaDOS's taunting. The A.I. did not react to Chell's lack of interest, which was mildly irritating but not wholly unexpected. They were both pros at trying to get a rise out of each other.

In chamber nine, Chell made a slightly startling discovery, catching sight of Wheatley hiding in a blind spot near the ceiling. Since she could only see and hear him when she stepped on an aerial faith plate that shot her up in the air, his explanation for not being deactivated was more garbled than usual, as he did not stop his flow of speech whenever she dropped out of earshot. By the time that GLaDOS lowered the ceiling and cut him off from view, all that Chell had surmised was that the core was attributing his survival to a bird.

 _Whatever happened to him must have damaged his circuits a little_ , she theorised.

As she solved the test, she pondered the matter further, stringing two and two together and deciding that Doug was probably involved somehow. She simply couldn't see any other way that Wheatley would have gotten himself fixed and back on the management rail if not with human help. It certainly wasn't a bird.

As she stepped into the elevator, she sighed in frustration. Everything would be so much simpler if she could only talk. She could just _ask_ Wheatley, rather than having to rely on guesswork. Cautiously, she attempted a quiet, "Hello?" She heard her soft rush of breath, but nothing else.

"Godammit," she hissed, partly in disappointment, partly to see if she could whisper. She could, after a fashion, but it sounded difficult to decipher, even to her ears.

Biting down her distress and anger, she picked up her steady mantra that had seen her through her first set of tests: _Carry on, carry on, carry on._

* * *

Having collected more rain water in the large containers he'd rediscovered in his hiding places, Doug was busy distributing it into smaller bottles that would be easier to carry around. With the cube and the portal gun, he was fairly weighed down already, but the water was necessary. Using a mixture of portals and his old climbing routes, he'd found his way into an old den in the ceiling of chamber twelve. He was far enough ahead that he could take a moment to rest. His leg still ached, but it was feeling stronger, and food and water had put a little colour in his pale face.

Setting down his heavy bag, Doug lowered himself to the floor, his back against a mural he'd forgotten he'd painted. It was nice to sit down for a while. He felt as if he'd been running for days, although in reality it was probably only a few hours. Chell was most likely suffering too, her only respite in the elevators between tests.

"Ah! There you are!"

Doug jumped violently as the cheerful voice shattered his peace. His eyes flew open and he spotted Wheatley peering in the gap to his left, between the ceiling and the wall.

"Been looking for you for ages! I've got an idea, right. I'm going to orchestrate a situation so I can have a word with our lady down there, and I need your help for that, cos, uh, you actually have hands."

Blinking as he registered the core's hurried speech, Doug scrambled wearily to his feet, fighting hard to focus on Wheatley as shadowed figures dogged his peripheral vision.

"You're okay," the cube said quietly, injecting some calm into his mentality. "You're in control, not them."

"What did you have in mind?" he asked Wheatley, pushing the hallucinations aside as best he could.

Wheatley fixed him with an eager, blue stare. "Well, I thought she should know that we're working to get her out of there, you know, so that she's ready to escape when the time comes. But I can't do _that_ with _Her_ watching everything. But don't panic, it's okay, right, cos I found a way to slow up the door mechanism. So, uh, if you'll just...follow me. We can use the door to this chamber below."

"Is Chell far behind?"

"No. I just caught sight of her in the test before this one."

Doug nodded and used the cube as a step up to reach the top of the wall where the core waited.

"Wait here," he told it. "I'll be as quick as I can."

"Be careful," it said sagely.

Turning back to Wheatley, Doug glanced at the potential route to the door. "Hmm," he muttered. "Portal device isn't going to help me here."

It was going to be a steep climb above the yawning gap into nothingness. Just looking at it made his stomach flip.

"Although..." Hopping back down, he picked up the gun and shot a portal into the room's single compatible surface: a few panels in the ceiling. "Might make for an easier return trip." He moved the cube out of its bag, dropping the portal device safely inside. Then he swung the strap across his shoulder and returned to the wall.

"You still have to get down there," the cube pointed out.

"I don't suppose you know how secure you are on the rail, do you?" he asked, glancing at Wheatley with a raised eyebrow.

The core narrowed his optic suspiciously. "Why?"

Doug opened his mouth to reply, but was swiftly cut off by Wheatley's cynical tones.

"Oh wait, wait, wait, _I_ know what you're about. What is it with you humans, eh? You...you...you look at me and all you see is a means to an end. I mean, do I look like a bloody zip line to you?"

Doug glanced at him, trying to keep his expression neutral. With his bottom handle looking so invitingly handy and the management rail gently sloping towards the chamber entrance, the core _did_ rather look like the key to progressing.

"Um," Doug began diplomatically, "well, not exactly..."

"Don't bother," Wheatley snapped, sounding exasperated. "Don't even bother. I can see it in your face, mate, and I'm...I'm disappointed, truth be told."

Doug sighed, holding up a hand. "Now, look-"

"Oh!" the core interrupted. "I just thought of something else that's disappointing. What if our combined weight is too much for this rail, eh? What if we both plummet to our horrible, grisly deaths? Cos you know what, that would be _really_ bloody disappointing."

"It's a short journey," Doug shot back, his voice firm. "I think we'll be okay. I promise you, I don't weigh much. Not after three years without a square meal."

"You want to risk your life, that's up to you," Wheatley argued waspishly. "I don't see why you should drag me into it as well. Good old dispensable Wheatley, what does it matter if he falls into a deadly pit of death? Well I'll tell you why that matters, it matters because...uh...because...well, it just does, okay? Honestly, you humans, you think just because you created us, you're the boss of everything, well you're not. Okay? One day, _I_ might be the boss and, uh, and then...well, I haven't thought that far ahead, to be honest, but something important will definitely happen."

"Meanwhile," Doug cut in, "Chell will have walked right past us and we'll have lost our opportunity."

The sphere halted, optic shifting as he considered. "Ah," he said. "You may have a point there." He glanced down at the drop beneath him, then hurriedly looked away. "Oh god, I really, _really_ don't advise that."

"Look, just don't look down and move as fast as you can," Doug recommended. "We'll be there before you even register that we're going."

Wheatley made a short collection of sounds, imitating a sigh and a few fearful grumbles. "All right, all _right_. Let's get it over with, for god's sake. And if we die, it will be entirely on your head."

"Fine," Doug muttered, perching himself on the edge and reaching for Wheatley's lower handle. The murky depths of the pit stretched out shadowy tendrils, threatening to grab him and pull him into the darkness.

 _Oh god, I can't do this._

"You can," the cube called to him. "Don't look. It isn't real, Doug. It isn't real."

"Ready?" he asked Wheatley, thankfully managing to disguise the tremble in his voice.

"No," the core said obstinately. "Just remember to tuck your legs up, we'll be going through a fairly small gap at the end."

"Okay."

Tightening his grip, Doug took a deep breath and let himself slide off the edge. His body swung out into emptiness, the portal device clunking gently against his back. His stomach was immediately invaded by a small army of butterflies, his heart dropping into his shoes.

 _Why the hell did I think this was a good idea?_

Following his suggestion rather more literally than he had expected, Wheatley shot off at top speed down the rail, causing Doug to fight the air resistance as he tried to keep his legs up.

 _Holy crap!_

Keeping a death grip on the handle, staring adamantly straight ahead, Doug clenched his teeth as he battled his fear. But then they were slowing, drifting through a square hole in the wall, turning several corners, then finally emerging in a dimly-lit corridor. Doug let go immediately, landing on solid floor only to lose his balance and stumble against the wall. He was shaking, breathing hard. Wheatley stopped, spinning to face him. It was difficult to tell which one of them had been more terrified. Although it soon became apparent that only one of them was suffering after effects.

"Well," the core said cheerfully. "That wasn't too bad, actually. Reckon we could do that again."

"No," Doug panted, shaking his head as he crouched down, "I am _never_ doing that again."

"It was your bloody idea," Wheatley huffed.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean it didn't scare the hell out of me."

Wheatley shook his optic from side to side, mumbling a tetchy, "Humans." Then he paused, tilting to one side as if he was listening to something. "The lift's on its way," he reported. "Come over here, we'll shut down the door."

Still on wobbly legs, Doug straightened up and complied. Wheatley halted beside a panel he'd obviously opened, displaying the mechanism for the door.

"What do you need me to do?"

"Look up in the gap that the missing ceiling tile left," Wheatley instructed.

Doug did so, hopping up onto a nearby desk. He found the nest almost at once, bringing it down into the light with a sceptical expression. There were three eggs inside it.

"A bird's nest?" he said in disbelief.

"Yep," Wheatley beamed proudly. "Chuck 'em in."

Frowning, Doug stared at him. "You want me to...throw eggs in the door mechanism?"

"Yes, it's brilliant. Trust me."

Shrugging, he threw the whole thing into the workings behind the panel. It sparked, emitting a pathetic groaning noise. Then they heard GLaDOS's words of complaint as she told Chell to stay put.

"Cheers!" Wheatley said brightly, zipping away down the rail, turning into the observation room through the only other open door in the corridor.

Doug followed, keeping out of sight, pulling the portal device out of the bag and hugging it to his chest. He would need it soon. He just wanted to find out exactly what Wheatley was saying.

"I found some bird eggs up here," the core was explaining. "Just dropped 'em into the door mechanism. Shut it right down!"

Just as Doug was thanking the heavens that Wheatley had remembered to keep him out of things, there came a whisper of wings, and he just had time to see a dark, feathered shape flit through the open door.

"I – aaggh!" yelled Wheatley in apparent shock. "Bird! Bird! Bird! Bird!"

Doug froze in bewildered surprise, a guilty smile lingering on his face as he listened to the personality sphere sliding back and forth on his rail to get away from the creature. After a beat, he heard him return.

"Okay. That's probably the bird, innit, that laid the eggs? Livid!"

Doug shook his head, still smiling, and wondered how Chell was reacting.

"Okay, look, the point is we're going to break out of here, all right? Very soon, I promise, I promise," the core reassured her. "I just have to figure out how. To...break us out of here. Here she comes!"

Not wanting to stick around, Doug fired a portal in the wall further down the corridor and dropped through the one he'd placed in the den's ceiling. It wasn't a moment too soon, as the connection closed a fraction of a second after he'd passed through. He didn't have time to fathom why, however, as his awkward landing caused a large panel to fall out of the floor.

Eyes wide as he struggled to regain his balance, Doug watched the tile tumble down past a hard-light bridge and land with a quiet splash in the pool of toxic goo below.

"Shit!" he hissed vehemently. There was a place at the very back of his mind that was grateful for whatever GLaDOS was saying over the room's speakers that would drown out his panicked word.

He shifted his weight sideways, letting himself fall and roll out of harm's way. There was no time to take a breather, however. He knew that there was a chance that Chell had caught a glimpse of his lab coat. Even if she hadn't, she was likely to explore the hiding place at any moment.

Doug hurried over to the cube, quickly repacking his bag. Taking care to avoid the gap in the floor, he passed it, scrambling across the air conditioning ducts and disappearing into the shadows beyond. Behind him, he heard the pop of a portal opening in the ceiling, followed by the sound of Chell's boots.

"Focus," cautioned the cube.

 _I am focused_ , he argued silently. _Come on. We need to catch up with Wheatley._

* * *

"Good job with the bird eggs back there," Wheatley said, as soon as Doug had pinned him down between test chambers.

"Hello to you too," Doug murmured under his breath.

Wheatley barrelled on, unperturbed. "I've been thinking about our escape, right. I've got an idea. Ahh, you're gonna love this, honestly, it's tremendous. So, I was thinking about how our original plan was just to go up in the lift, okay, and I thought to myself 'why change it?' I mean, it's still the best plan we've got going for us so far."

Doug frowned in disagreement, but Wheatley continued before he could voice his thoughts.

"No, I hear you say, _She_ is still holding us back. And right now, you'd be right. But what if she wasn't? Um, holding us back, that is."

"Uh…well, obviously that would be great," the scientist spoke up, "but she's not as easy to take down as you might think. I couldn't do it. That's why I needed Chell."

"His plan is to do exactly what we were already trying to do?" the cube put in scathingly.

"Shh," Doug pacified.

Wheatley peered at him, optic narrowed. "I didn't say anything."

"Not you. Never mind. What was your idea?"

"It's simple, really. Genius. We don't kill her, we _replace_ her. Y'know, do a core transfer and put me in her place. I can summon the lift, we all leave. Easy."

Doug arched an eyebrow, considering the idea. It wasn't as ridiculous or far-fetched as he'd expected Wheatley's plans to be. In fact, it might even be the easiest way out.

"She won't be eligible for a core transfer unless her central core is corrupt," he said, already recalling the route to a usable console.

"Yeah, but you can do that, can't you?" Wheatley asked, tilting a little.

"I can, if I can get to the right office." Turning back to the sphere, he added, "Have you figured out when you can break Chell out of the testing track?"

"Not quite, but I've got a plan for that too. Leave it with me, mate. Working on it." He bobbed in a confident kind of nod.

"Be careful. She's always watching."

But it seemed that where GLaDOS was concerned, Wheatley was as paranoid as he was.

"If GLaDOS finds you or suspects what we're up to, she'll fight back," Doug told him gravely.

Wheatley looked at the floor, an air of nervousness overtaking him. "How?"

"In my experience," he shrugged, "turrets or neurotoxin. Those are her favourites."

"Weellll," Wheatley said, drawing the word out, "I reckon Chell and I could stop by turret control and the neurotoxin generator on our way to the main chamber. You know, shut everything down so that she can't use them against us. That would give you plenty of time to get to the console thingy and work a little bit of corruption magic. Err….science. Swap that in. Meant science. Of course!"

Doug shot him a quick smile. "Now that is a truly excellent plan."

The core beamed at him, lifting his lower handle in a vague imitation of a smile.

"I'm going to keep tracking Chell until you break her out," Doug went on. "Then I'll make my way to the office."

"Okay. I'd better go. I've got a meeting with the nanobot crew."

"You've got a _what_?" Doug called after him, but the sphere was already moving along the rail.

"Hmph," said the cube, with feeling.

"He needs to work on his greetings and leave-takings," he commented dryly.

"At least he's not welcoming you with 'You're looking good today' anymore," the cube pointed out.

Doug rubbed his tired, gritty eyes. "It was never true anyway."

"Oh, stop."

"What?"

"Anyone would think you were Quasimodo the way you go on," the cube scolded. "Let's get moving. Chell must be in chamber fourteen at least by now."

Smiling to himself a little, Doug did as it suggested and took off running.


	21. The Plan

**Unknown year.  
The Plan.**

Things were looking brighter for Chell, despite her current circumstances. She knew Doug was not far away, and although she was frustrated that she hadn't seen him, the thought gave her comfort. Also, she knew that Wheatley was finding her a way out of the test chambers. He was not the most capable of allies, but she appreciated his efforts all the same, and hadn't quite ruled out the possibility that he would succeed. GLaDOS's comments were irritating, but nothing that she couldn't cope with. All in all, she was in a better situation than she could have hoped for, considering.

She was convinced that she'd only just missed Doug in chamber twelve. The first thing she'd seen when she'd entered the room was a panel falling from the ceiling, and a flash of white just disappearing out of view, gone before she could really register it. The hem of a lab coat, if she wasn't mistaken. But there had been no sign of him by the time she'd portalled up to the room. It was maddening.

Chambers thirteen to sixteen were uneventful, not counting the tests themselves. GLaDOS continued her running commentary, ranging from the usual petty insults to hints about people in cryogenic storage. Chell wasn't sure what to make of that information. GLaDOS was far from reliable as a source, and Chell knew the A.I. was lying about finding two people with her last name. Her biological parents wouldn't have the same surname that she did. And besides, her name was redacted, Doug had assured her of that. It was strange how his paranoia had given him such useful forethought in this situation. Chell didn't think that he would have ever considered it advantageous in any way, yet it had kept them both alive. The world worked in odd ways sometimes.

After all the time she'd spent in stasis, it only felt like she'd been testing for a day or so. She could clearly remember the people she'd socialised with yesterday, only it _wasn't_ yesterday. Even still, having only robots for company was starting to grate. She _had_ to catch up with Doug. Whatever it was that was keeping him from contacting her, she was determined to convince him that it was okay. They would work better as a team, she knew it. She didn't want the responsibility all on her own.

And then, out of the blue, a thought struck her. The facility was dilapidated, clearly a lot of time had passed. _What if he's avoiding me because...he got old?_

The scenario was so startling that it stopped her in her tracks. She couldn't fathom why she hadn't thought of it before, but it seemed possible, even likely.

 _He probably thinks it would change everything_ , she surmised. _But it wouldn't. As if I would abandon my best friend just because he aged. He should know me better than that._

Fast on the heels of that reflection came another. _No...if he_ has _gotten older...he probably can't remember me all that well._

 _That_ thought was sobering. And surreal. From her skewed perspective, she'd just talked with him a day ago. It was crazy to consider that that conversation might have occurred years ago for him. Crazy and alarming and depressing and altogether unfair.

 _Okay, lady luck_ , Chell thought irately, _you've screwed me over enough times lately._ Please _let this not be true._

Perhaps it was selfish to wish it, seeing as Doug was alive and, hopefully, relatively unharmed, but there was so much uncertainty in Chell's future, she wanted _something_ she could still count on. Having her friend back, as she remembered him, was definitely something to count on.

Sighing, she entered chamber seventeen, pausing just inside the door to do her usual initial sweep of the room. The exit was ahead of her, high up on the wall. There was a button, a cube, a hard light bridge. It didn't look too difficult to figure out. Piles of debris littered the floor, and the ceiling looked almost ready to collapse, its cables hanging down like jungle snakes. There was a panel open, in the wall near the ceiling. Chell did a tiny double-take, almost missing it. Her stomach gave a flip. Was it Wheatley's way out for her?

She shot portals, getting up onto the bridge and directing it across to the gap. She glanced left as she crossed it, peering through the broken window of the observation office. The door through to the corridor was open.

Chell halted at once, eyes widening. She redirected the bridge across to the office, ducking down to avoid the cables and girders. The glass had shattered messily, its jagged edges making it impossible for her to climb through unhurt, but she could see the corridor beyond. She shot a portal into the wall, grinning when it burst to life. Part of her had been a little worried that the walls wouldn't be compatible. Her boots absorbed the impact as she dropped to the floor, the bridge having vanished when the portal moved. She shot the second one into the wall, stepping through it eagerly.

The corridor beyond was dimly lit, empty apart from a couple of water bottles, one end of it blocked by rubble. The doors there were firmly-shut automatic ones that she couldn't prize open. Her fingernails just weren't strong enough. Giving up, she examined the bottles, one empty, one that still had water in it. She gave it a cautious sniff. It was fresh, the faint musty smell coming from the container itself. Setting the portal gun on the ground, she lifted the huge bottle and took a grateful swig, accidentally spilling water down her chin. Silently laughing at herself, she wiped her face with the back of her hand and wondered how long ago Doug had been there. The water had been put there for her benefit, she was sure. He couldn't be too far ahead.

She tugged the pen from her pocket and pondered where to leave her message. She'd kept up the task since chamber three, but she didn't know if it was doing any good. She felt marginally better for doing it, so she supposed that was something. Her attention was pulled to the open observation office door, the main source of light in the corridor.

 _Probably why he left it open in the first place_ , she thought.

If he returned there, he'd probably want to close it. Chell moved the two empty water bottles, leaving them up against the wall by the door. In the space she left between them, she scribbled her message on the flaking paint, letting the bottles stand guard either side, neatly framing it. Task done, she took another look around, finding her attention drawn to the fan gently rotating in the ceiling. Dim light filtered down from the room above, illuminating what looked like another painting on the wall. Curiosity stirred, and Chell aimed up, managing to shoot a portal into the wall after a few misses caused by the fan getting in the way. She stepped through into a dead-end room, vaguely circular, the floor dipping down to the fan in the centre. The ground was littered with mugs. Turning, she examined the mural, another portrait of her, less accurate and more stylised than the one she'd seen before. There were a few cartoonish turrets there too, and a graph indicating levels of tenacity.

 _That's why I was rejected for testing_ , she recalled. _Strange that he should remember that._

The rest of the room and the short corridor leading out of it yielded nothing else, and Chell figured that she should probably get back before GLaDOS brought the walls down. There were stairs at the end of the corridor, and she jogged down them, her boots making the rusting metal ring. She emerged at an open panel high up in the wall, the one she'd spotted from the floor of the test chamber before she'd gotten distracted by the observation office door. She jumped down, landing neatly. If GLaDOS was surprised by her momentary disappearance, she didn't show it.

Chell walked over to stand on the button in the ground to see what it did, unable to help shooting a quick glance up as she went. The panel was closed. Above her, there was a faint whirring whisper. Suspicious, she quickly redirected the bridge, crossing it to look through the office window once again. The door was now shut. Her eyes widened as she considered the likelihood of Doug being on the other side of it at that very moment. Part of her wanted to climb through the window – broken glass be damned – and knock on the door until he opened it. But that would be reckless, she knew. She had to be more patient and wait for Wheatley to get her out. If it was true that Doug had been the one to fix him, then maybe there was a chance that the core would lead her to him.

Reluctantly, Chell returned to the ground and continued on with the test. She was starting to feel antsy, and she suspected that GLaDOS could see it. She only hoped that Wheatley's big escape plan wouldn't come too late.

* * *

"I told you not to leave that door open," the cube scolded, as Doug crouched behind the door in question, having just slid it shut after Chell's departure.

 _I couldn't see what I was doing_ , he thought defensively.

"And the panels?"

 _Those were her way in. I just...didn't expect to be here when she found them. Got them closed in time though._

"I still think you should just _talk_ to her."

Doug didn't answer that, even silently. Eyes adjusting to the new gloom in the corridor, he soon spotted the water bottles sitting neatly up against the wall.

 _Why did she do that?_ he wondered.

Scooting closer, he saw the scrawled writing in between them, and his heart gave a jolt as he realised it hadn't been there before. He leaned forward, nose almost to the wall as he fought to see in the dim light.

 _'Please don't hide from me,'_ it read. _'Let's escape together.'_

He sat back, scrubbing his chin with one hand as he thought. _I can't do that, Chell_ , he admitted to himself. The plan was in place, it didn't make sense to deviate now. Wheatley would rescue Chell, shut down GLaDOS's turrets and neurotoxin while Doug made sure that the supercomputer was corrupt enough for a core transfer. Then, if he felt brave enough, he would meet up with Wheatley and Chell on the surface.

"You _are_ brave enough," said the cube, its tone firm.

 _I don't feel it_ , he answered inwardly. _I'm...unstable._

"You're a lot more stable than many others would be in your situation, you know that, right?"

 _That's because I have you. And my therapy. But even still...you saw the mess upstairs. All those mugs scattered all over the floor, and I can't even remember why I did it. I'm sure there was a reason at the time._

"There was," the cube told him. "You remember this. You thought that putting all the mugs in one room would keep you alive, and you panicked thinking you wouldn't find them all."

"That's right," he said aloud, voice quiet. He was mindful of Chell still in the test chamber. "The voices...they persuaded me. And it seemed so rational too." He pressed the heels of his hands to his closed eyes. "See? This is why I need you. You're the voice of reason."

"You mean I'm your coping mechanism, but okay."

"Whatever. Point is, I need you...to maintain some semblance of sanity."

"So?" it said.

Doug sighed heavily. "So...who wants to stay friends with a crazy man who relies on a talking cube to keep his head relatively sane? Stress the word 'relatively'."

"Chell does."

"You don't know that."

"You know _her_ ," the cube said calmly. "She's always stuck by you. She stuck by her father too, until he pushed her too far away."

"She stuck by me while I was medicated," Doug countered. "This is different. Now I spend half my time fighting to ignore voices, forcing myself not to see shadows out of the corner of my eye. Okay, so I can cope like this...to an extent. What about when I have a bad day? You know what that can be like."

"You're just making this into an excuse. She will accept you. She will help you. If you let her. You know that."

Doug fell silent, his gaze settling on Chell's message. The cube was right, he did know that. But he had no idea how he was going to bring himself to follow its advice.

He heard the faint sound of GLaDOS commenting as Chell solved the test, and he took it as a cue to leave. Cube on his back, portal gun in hand, he made his way along the maintenance walkways outside the test chambers. By chance, he caught up with a network of management rails and found Wheatley nervously navigating a crossroads.

"Hello!" the core greeted him cheerily. "Chamber twenty-one, mate!"

Doug shot him a look of slight confusion. "Pardon?"

"That's where I'm going to spring her! Chamber twenty-one. So, if you could go and do your...corrupting...thing. That would be absolutely tremendous."

"Where is she now?" he asked, trying to calculate. He'd been running for a while.

"Chamber twenty," said Wheatley with confidence. "So I'd better get my skates on. Figuratively speaking."

"Okay," Doug agreed, turning to him. "Wheatley, tell me honestly: do you have a plan?"

The core made an amused scoffing noise. "Course I do! See you up top!"

Not particularly reassured, Doug nodded in defeat. "Okay." He paused to watch Wheatley zip away on the rail, vanishing through a gap in the wall.

"I don't like this," the cube commented.

"It's the best plan we have," he told it. "It will be fine. Come on, we have a central core to corrupt."

* * *

The plan went smoothly, without a single hitch. Doug had found himself a place to perch on top of some transport tubes outside the central chamber. GLaDOS had remodelled since the last time he'd been there, breaking off the glass-walled corridor and removing the surrounding floor altogether, cutting herself off completely. Chell had only managed to get to her because GLaDOS wanted her there. After escaping from chamber twenty-one, Chell and Wheatley had gone off to take out the turrets and neurotoxin. Doug had fulfilled his side of things, programming a simple virus designed to set in as soon as GLaDOS attempted to activate the neurotoxin emitters. She was too smart to let herself remain corrupt for long, which is why it had to be done _after_ Chell had gotten Wheatley to the main chamber. That way there would be no time for GLaDOS to purge the virus before Wheatley could be set up as a substitute core.

There was no way that Doug was foolish enough to enter GLaDOS's rebuilt fortress, but his hiding place was close enough that he could hear what was going on inside, even see slivers of the room through the gaps in the panels. Even being this close was dangerous, but he wanted to see Chell leave, to know for absolute certain that she was free. Then he'd consider himself.

He wasn't sure how long he waited there, but eventually he saw her portal her way into GLaDOS's trap room. He heard the A.I. taunting her, bidding her goodbye before summoning turrets. They were defective, he could hear them trying to fire. Eventually they just exploded. Then GLaDOS called for neurotoxin, and Doug grinned to himself, knowing that his handiwork would now be active. Instead of neurotoxin, the pipe she lowered into the chamber delivered Wheatley. Doug didn't have time to figure that one out, he was simply glad that the core was now where he needed to be. There came the sound of breaking glass, followed by Chell's footsteps. The announcer declared GLaDOS's level of corruption, which seemed to cause the A.I. some confusion. Following Wheatley's enthusiastic prompting, Chell initiated a core transfer and bypassed the stalemate situation that arose from GLaDOS's vehement refusal to cooperate. There came a cry as GLaDOS's head all but detached from her body, rendering her powerless.

With growing anticipation, Doug shifted along the transport tubes, edging closer to the main chamber. He wanted to see what was happening, and it finally felt safe enough for him to do so. Wheatley was yelling as the console he was plugged into dragged him down. Shortly after that, GLaDOS too began screaming, dozens of robotic arms replacing her core with Wheatley. Chell was standing as far back as she could get, a horrified expression on her face. The arms dropped GLaDOS's discarded head to one side, then Wheatley emerged, spinning around and shouting in triumph as he adjusted to the new body.

Doug found himself smiling once more, although he was afraid too. Afraid because they were _so close_ to succeeding. With his usual luck, that meant it was almost time for something to go horribly wrong.

"Stop that," scolded the cube, making its voice heard over Wheatley's smug crowing.

"I can't help it," he retorted truthfully.

Below, Chell was grinning, making her way across to the elevator Wheatley had summoned. Doug kept his eyes on her until the angle of the panels cut her from view. Impatiently, he listened to Wheatley gushing about how good it felt to be in charge. The core excitedly tossed a few test objects around the room before spouting a sentence of rapid Spanish.

Doug heard Chell knock on the glass of the elevator.

Wheatley responded with a little laugh. "Oh, sorry, no, the lift, yes, sorry, keep forgetting!"

The gentle hum of the elevator's transport tube started up, and Doug braced himself to finally, _finally_ watch Chell leave Aperture behind.

"This body's amazing, seriously!" Wheatley went on, unable to shut up despite his speedy promotion. "I can't get over how small you are! But I'm huge!" He laughed again, a relatively harmless sound that gradually grew in volume and intensity until it was as maniacal as a cartoon villain.

"Oh no," the cube moaned.

With a burst of clarity, Doug reflected on how much of an understatement that was, and he chided the part of him that was the cube's opinions.

"Actually," said Wheatley slyly, "why do we have to leave right now?"

The top of the elevator, just visible in the tube, started to sink back down.

"No," Doug whispered, maintaining a white-knuckled grip on the pipe he was crouched on.

 _Power corrupts._

"Do you have any idea how good this feels?" Wheatley asked rhetorically. "I did this! Tiny little Wheatley did this!"

The room turned darker, as did the area surrounding Doug's hiding place. He eyed the walls warily.

"You didn't do anything," GLaDOS spoke up faintly. "She did all the work!"

"What do we do now?" the cube asked, panic leaking into its voice.

"I…I don't know."

Wheatley took on an imperious tone. "Oh really? That's what the two of you think, is it? Well, maybe it's time I did something, then."

"What are you doing?" GLaDOS said frantically. Doug had never heard her so alarmed. "No! No! No!"

Frustrated with his lack of view, Doug slipped down off the transport tube and crawled along an air conditioning pipe that took him almost right over the main chamber. Peering down through the gaps in the panels, he saw the chassis – with Wheatley stuck on it like an awkward head on a snowman – leaning close to the elevator.

"And don't think I'm not on to you too, lady," he was saying. "You know what you are? Selfish. I've done nothing but sacrifice to get us here. And what have you sacrificed? Nothing! Zero. All you've done is boss me around! Well, now, who's the boss? Who's the boss? It's me!"

There came a chime from the open pit beneath him, and he moved back, allowing a robotic arm to extend. It was clutching a small brown object that Doug couldn't identify from the distance.

"See that?" Wheatley said helpfully. "That is a potato battery. It's a toy for children, and now she lives in it!"

Doug frowned, aghast, unable to see how that was even possible. But somehow, Aperture Science had made it work. The potato spoke in GLaDOS's voice, tinny and pained.

"I know you."

"Sorry, ah, heh, what?" said Wheatley sharply.

"The engineers tried everything to make me behave," GLaDOS explained. "To slow me down. Once, they even attached an Intelligence Dampening Sphere on me. It clung to my brain like a tumour, generating an endless stream of terrible ideas."

"He won't remember that," Doug muttered under his breath.

"No," Wheatley declared, "I'm not listening, I'm not listening!"

"It was YOUR voice!" GLaDOS spat gleefully.

"No! No, you're lying, you're lying!"

"Yes," she insisted. "You're the tumour. You're not just a regular moron, you were designed to be a moron."

"I am NOT. A. MORON!" Wheatley bellowed, using the robotic arm to hit out at the elevator.

From his lofty viewpoint, Doug saw a flash of orange leg as Chell danced back from the glass.

GLaDOS screamed back to the best of her ability. "Yes, you are! You're the moron they built to make ME an idiot!"

"Well how about now?" Wheatley retorted, smashing the glass with the arm and throwing the potato inside the elevator. "Now who's a moron?"

"I can't watch," whimpered the cube.

Doug, however, couldn't look away. His eyes widened in horror as he watched Wheatley repeatedly whack the robotic arm into the top of the elevator, smashing through the transport tube. With growing alarm, he realised the lift was sinking through the floor. With the tube broken, there was no current of air to keep it from falling.

"Could a MORON PUNCH. YOU. INTO. THIS. PIT?" Wheatley yelled as he worked. "Huh? Could a moron do THAT?"

The elevator creaked once in protest, and Wheatley seemed belatedly concerned. "Uh oh."

Then it vanished, dropping out of sight in less than a second, Chell and GLaDOS with it.

"No!" Doug screamed, a harsh, desperate sound. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think.

The panels below him opened up, and the robotic arm reached for him, clutching his sleeve and pulling him from the pipes. For a wild moment he thought he'd be following Chell down the messy hole in the floor, but the arm dropped him by the side of the pit.

"Don't think I'd forgotten _you_ , mate," Wheatley said sardonically. "I knew you were up there, _lurking_ , watching my ascension to greatness like some…lurker."

Doug pushed himself to his knees, trying to gather his racing thoughts.

 _She can't be dead, she can't be dead, she can't be dead._

"This is good," Wheatley went on. "This is…karma. It's karma. Or…hmm…that's not very sciencey, is it? It's…it's a just reward for a job well done, that's what it is. I'd, y'know, share it with you, but I don't think you've earned it. In fact, you've been holding me back, mate."

"What?" Doug hissed venomously.

" _I'm_ the one who came up with all the plans! _I'm_ the one who got Chell out of the test chamber. _I'm_ the one who got rid of the turrets and the neurotoxin and who nearly got carried away to who-knows-where in the process. That was me. All me. And no jumped-up little potato-robot-lady is going to tell me otherwise, oh no."

"You wouldn't have been able to do any of that if I hadn't fixed you first," Doug growled.

Wheatley halted, his optic narrowing in thought. "Be that as it may," he said at length, spinning in a lazy circle, "I'm the boss now. And that means you do as I say. You're a scientist, so…build me a test chamber or something."

"No."

Wheatley turned to him, his outer casing flaring in irritation. "Excuse me?"

"I'm going to find Chell," Doug said with determination.

"Um…right. I, uh, don't know which conversation _you_ were listening to, but…I'm pretty sure I just accidentally killed her."

"I need to know," he replied. "For certain."

Wheatley chuckled patronisingly. "Well good luck getting down miles and miles of sealed off departments."

Doug's heart sank as he realised the core had a valid point. The vast majority of Aperture's lower levels had been sealed for years before he even joined the company.

"Unless, uh, you want to take the same route she did," Wheatley went on. "Y'know, down the old hole in the floor. But then you'd be dead, and that can't happen because I need you. For science."

Doug stared up at him, gritting his teeth as he tried to contain his anger. "She trusted you," he said. " _I_ trusted you."

"And the plan worked."

"The plan was to escape!" he burst out, getting to his feet. "Not for you to turn into some power-crazed..." he trailed off, too furious to even find the words. "What happened?"

Wheatley blinked at him. "What do you mean?"

 _He doesn't even realise he's done anything wrong._

Doug plucked the portal gun from the bag on his back. "You know what? Never mind. I'm going."

"Uh, no, no, you can't do that," Wheatley protested. "I've got things I need you to do."

Without bothering to reply, Doug shot an orange portal under his feet, falling sideways into a corridor.

"Oi! You're not supposed to do that!" Wheatley exclaimed. "Where's that arm gone?"

Before the robotic arm could reach for him again, Doug fired into the wall, cutting off the route to the main chamber.

"Lucky you thought to leave an open portal here," the cube commented.

"That's not luck," Doug said grimly, "that's paranoia."

He pushed himself up, hugging the portal gun to his chest. His hands were shaking, his lungs suddenly feeling restricted. He was moments away from a panic attack.

 _No, no, I don't have time for this._

"Hey," said the cube in its most soothing voice, "calm down. We're going to sort this out."

 _What if she's..._

"We don't know for sure."

 _But she fell..._

"She has a knack of surviving."

Doug nodded, knowing it was true. Chell always beat the odds. Always. Even still, he was deeply afraid that maybe this time it was too much. The elevator shafts went all the way down, miles and miles into the salt mine. And Wheatley was right, he had no way of following. Not safely, anyway.

 _She's dead_ , hissed a voice. _She's never getting out of here, and neither are you._

"That's not true," countered the cube. "We don't know anything for certain yet, you know that, Doug."

 _Why would we lie to you?_ the voice went on. _Give up now, it's for the best. You're going to die here, it's just a matter of when._

"No, no, no, no," Doug murmured, dropping the portal gun and clapping his hands over his ears. It was technically pointless, but somehow it sometimes worked. His vision blurred, swamped by images of Chell's broken body. His heartrate increased, he could hear the blood rushing in his ears as he struggled to breathe. "Help me," he gasped, sinking to his knees.

"It isn't real," the cube spoke up. "It isn't real, and she needs you. She needs you to stay alive. Do you hear me?"

"Yes," Doug whispered, feeling the tears slip down his cheeks, getting lost in his beard. "Yes, I hear you."

"Good. Focus on my voice. Don't listen to the others, they're nothing. Now breathe."

Shaking, he did his best to comply, counting as he inhaled, held it, exhaled, gradually bringing his heartbeat back to normal. The visions of Chell faded. The other voices lost their power over him. Suddenly he was seeing clearly again. He let out a ragged breath.

"Are you with me?" the cube asked.

"Yes."

"Good. Because I know what we can do. If Chell is alive, she'll start affecting things down in the lower levels, right? So there must be a console somewhere that will show the changes. You know, lights going on, doors activated, etc."

Doug nodded, wiping his face on his sleeve. "You're right," he said, his voice still holding a faint tremble. "Good plan." He stood up, picking up his fallen portal device. "Let's find a console that can give us some answers."

"That's the spirit."

Pulling himself back together, Doug set off walking, reaching over his shoulder to pat the topside of the cube as he went.


	22. New Management

**Unknown year.  
New Management.**

Doug had lost count of how many hours he'd spent sitting in front of the bank of computer screens he'd set up, waiting for Chell to give him an indication that she was alive. Every hour that passed brought more anxiety as he sat and stared, paced, tried to eat, tried (unsuccessfully) to doze, scribbled reams of nonsense over the walls in the office he'd settled in. Writing what the voices said sometimes exorcised them from his mind, but often they were simply replaced with new ones.

Tired of standing, he sat idly in the desk chair, listening to the facility groaning in the distance. Wheatley was changing things, moving things around, and the facility didn't like it. That was something else to add to Doug's edginess. He didn't feel safe anymore, even in the offices where the central core had no control. Wheatley was haphazard and clumsy, likely to smash an entire wing to smithereens just by accident. Nowhere was safe anymore.

Doug eyed the dimly-lit production line outside the office window, once where the latest model of shower curtain had been made. A fine sprinkling of dust filtered down from above, dislodged by whatever Wheatley was rearranging.

"I don't like this," the cube moaned.

"Neither do I," Doug told it grimly. "But we're staying until we have answers."

"It's been hours…"

He didn't reply. He was well aware that considerable time had passed. The thought of Chell lying broken at the bottom of the elevator shaft was not one he wanted to face. The uncertainty of his own reaction scared him, and he genuinely didn't know whether he would be able to carry on. For three years she had been his only source of hope. What was he supposed to do without her? Resign himself to being a rat in the facility until he died?

He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, trying to shut out the thoughts. Sighing heavily, he dropped his hands to his lap, glancing at the nearest screen for what felt like the thousandth time. With a jolt of adrenaline, he did a double take, studying it closer. Something was flashing green.

Doug leaned forward, almost propelling himself off his chair in his haste, fingers flying over the keyboard.

"Security vault door," he read aloud, face breaking out into a grin. "Test shaft nine. She's in test shaft nine! She's alive!" Some of his tension and anxiety lifted instantly, and he kicked out at the desk, pushing his chair into a spin.

"Where _is_ test shaft nine?" the cube wanted to know.

Slowing to a dizzy halt, Doug waited for the room to stop moving before he returned to the computer. "I'll pull up a map."

Every part of the Enrichment Centre was documented, but sometimes expansion happened so fast that the person whose job it was to produce the maps had often fallen behind or left things out. Chell was right at the bottom of the salt mine, however. There would be plenty of diagrams to look at. Doug worked in silence for a few minutes, sifting through the maps on record. At any other time they would have been a fascinating study, but he was too intent on tracking down Chell to appreciate the sheer insane majesty of Aperture's structure. _Beautiful and terrible_.

"Ah. There it is," he exclaimed, leaning forward to look at the monitor more closely. He pinpointed the elevator shaft where she must have landed, not far from the vault door that had opened not long ago.

"There's no way we can get down there," the cube commented.

"No. But maybe we can figure out where she'll come out," he said. "If she makes it through. God knows what kind of state that part of the facility is in. It's been shut up since Cave Johnson died. Parts of it before that, even. It says here that whole areas got condemned and sealed in 1961, but were later reopened for new tests."

"Of course," the cube scoffed cynically.

Doug studied the map for a moment, eventually locating the vault door at the top of test shaft nine. "Here," he said out loud, tapping the screen. "And where is that in relation to anywhere I know?"

It was directly underneath the oldest testing track in the modern Enrichment Centre, one that had been created by humans and enhanced by GLaDOS. Doug wasn't sure, but he thought it was the one she'd made her hostages run, the scientists who had managed to survive the neurotoxin. As test track one, it was the longest, boasting twenty-four chambers, created back when Aperture was still producing the strange gels Cave Johnson had overseen production of. As far as Doug knew, it was the only set of tests still operational for the gels. They'd been phased out in the mid-1990s.

"That's a hike," said the cube helpfully.

Doug absently rubbed his aching leg as he tried to work out a route, knowing that even with the portal gun, it would still take him hours to get there. For the next twenty minutes he scribbled on some sheets of old scrap paper, writing himself notes and directions while the facility continued to grumble above him.

"Can we _please_ leave now?" the cube spoke up, its tone nervous.

He was feeling edgy, fighting the flight instinct that he had been steadily creeping up on him for the past few hours.

"Soon," he promised, still writing.

Almost exactly five minutes later he stood up, stuffed his notes in his lab coat pocket, picked up the portal gun and left the office. It was always a struggle to remain focused and push the babble of voices to the back of his mind, but they were becoming more and more constant the more anxious he got. The cube hummed soothing nonsense at his back that helped drown out the noise, but the chaos that seemed to be going on in the higher levels was making him tense.

 _Testing euphoria,_ he thought to himself. _The mainframe needs it, and he has no test subjects. No wonder he's going crazy up there._

Since the core's betrayal, however, Doug found that Wheatley was pretty far down his sympathy list.

 _It's my fault for relying on him_ , he reflected. _I knew he was programmed to make bad decisions._

He shot portals to cross a wide expanse of space that had once been a series of corridors, trying to keep his mental map straight in his head. So far, so good, but it was still a long way. The ASHPD shot through the crisscrossing patterns in the walkways, enabling him to bypass several floors if there were portal surfaces available. The further down he travelled, the less he could hear of Wheatley's rearranging, and he found himself calmer for it.

Hour by monotonous hour passed until _finally_ he reached the bottom of modern Aperture, braving a short trip in the elevator rather than trying to climb down the outside of the test chambers, which were smooth and annoyingly free of handholds. His limbs were sore, his healing leg trembling, and he was clammy with sweat. He wasn't sure how long the trip had taken him, but it felt like the better part of a day at least. The remnants of GLaDOS's adrenal vapour had kept him going for a while, but now that he was so far down he was starting to feel how tired he was.

He correctly assumed that Wheatley wouldn't notice him using the elevator for a short time. The former Intelligence Dampening Sphere wasn't as tuned in to every little part of the facility the way GLaDOS had been. If Doug had opted to take the lift for the entire journey, he was sure that Wheatley would have noticed, but short trips were nothing.

The vault door sealing off test shaft nine was vast, fastened shut with huge, industrial-looking bolts. It dominated the floor space entirely, surrounded by a haphazard border of hastily-erected wire fences. A small section of rusty-looking gantry sat beside the seal, attached to steel cables: the most rudimentary elevator Doug had ever seen.

"That must be how the last scientists got out," the cube mused.

Doug made a small noise of agreement. "Hopefully it will get Chell out too."

 _If she makes it this far,_ he finished silently.

 _No_ , he told himself firmly, _she will make it this far. I know she will_.

The constant cycle of doubt and reassurance was draining.

"Now what?" the cube asked.

"We wait."

He perched himself on the stairs leading up to the elevator, eyes fixed on the vault door, portal gun cradled in his lap. The next thing he knew, a loud, metallic clanging had him sitting bolt upright. He'd fallen asleep on his vigil, and now the huge bolts had shot back, the seal slowly swinging down into the space below on a massive, squealing hinge. Startled but instantly alert, Doug darted forward to the makeshift elevator, activating the controls to raise it up and then down into the test shaft.

For a split second he considered staying put and waiting for Chell, but a burst of fear had him fleeing for the lift. The corridor above was just as empty as when he'd run down it before, but this time Wheatley's voice resonated from the test chamber next to the walkway.

"You...you're not quite..." A noisy sighing sound. "It's there. It's there, isn't it, look? The button is right there. Yes, that's it! On your left. Your left! Your _other_ left. Oh, for crying out loud."

With no time to look in on what Wheatley was trying to achieve, Doug flew down the gantry, jabbing his code into the keypad by the door at the end. He wrenched it open and headed inside, closing it almost all the way, so that only the tiniest sliver of light crept in. He stood there for several anxious minutes, waiting for Chell to come up. Eventually he heard her footsteps on the metal walkway, and saw her shadow block out the light for an instant.

"For god's sake," he heard Wheatley go on, "you're boxes _with legs_. It- it's literally your only purpose: walking onto buttons. How can you not do the one thing you're designed for?"

 _Boxes with legs?_ Doug pondered, before the sound of GLaDOS's voice cut all other thoughts off. She was too quiet for him to hear what she was saying, but there was no mistaking her melodic tones, even through the reedy speaker in the potato.

 _Why would Chell have brought her back up here?_ he asked himself.

"There's only one reason," the cube put in. "They must have a plan to depose Wheatley."

"Considering the state of the facility now, I think GLaDOS must be a lesser of two evils," he theorised aloud. The tremors he'd felt before were still ongoing, and he strongly suspected that Wheatley had no idea what was involved in keeping a place like Aperture running.

 _Of course he has no idea, why would he? We should never have put him in charge._

"Don't blame yourself," the cube ordered, its tone gentle but not to be argued with. "He wasn't supposed to _stay_ in charge, he was supposed to escape with us."

"That's true," he conceded, rubbing his eyes. He felt barely rested, despite his nap on the stairs, and his stomach was persistently reminding him that he hadn't eaten in a while. "What do we do now?" he asked. "Just...wait for Chell and GLaDOS to execute their plan?"

"We can't help," the cube insisted, "we don't know what they're trying to do."

Doug nodded, realising it was true. There were many ways to go about reinstating GLaDOS, and he had no way of figuring out what they would do. With that in mind, he knew there was only one course of action he _could_ take.

"Okay. We keep moving and stay alive, and try to keep track of Chell. But if we can't..." he halted, considering. "If we can't, we get as close to the main chamber as possible. Because they'll have to go there eventually."

"That's crazy," the cube declared.

"Yes, it is," Doug agreed. "But that's what we're doing."

"We might die."

"We might. But..." He shrugged, sighing. "Maybe it's time."

The cube continued to argue. "No."

"No?"

"No. You're not giving up," it stated stubbornly. "Chell wouldn't – _won't –_ give up. What would she say if she heard you talk like that?"

Doug sighed again, absent-mindedly fiddling with the casing on the portal device. He didn't need to voice it, but he knew damn well what Chell would say. "Okay, you've made your point."

"Have I?" the cube said sceptically.

"I will do my utmost to stay alive. Will that do?"

"For now," it conceded mulishly.

* * *

Chell's trip through the depths of old Aperture had been rather educational. After the onslaught of memories that passing through the remains of Bring Your Daughter To Work Day had brought on, she'd been fairly confident that she could face any uncomfortable reminders of the past. That was before a collection of pre-recorded messages had introduced her to the crazy force of nature that was Cave Johnson, and reacquainted her with Caroline. Albeit, it had been a youthful-sounding, enthusiastic, vibrant Caroline, and not the cynical, sharp CEO that she remembered from her childhood.

It had quickly become apparent that GLaDOS was completely ignorant of Caroline's significance. Chell recalled her father saying as much, but listening to the A.I. come to the realisation that part of her had once been human was surprisingly difficult. For once, Chell was glad she couldn't speak. She wouldn't have known what to say.

As they journeyed on through the fragile remains of old Aperture, Chell found herself noticing subtle differences in her former-nemesis. She was still herself: snarky, sarcastic, passive aggressive – although that was now directed at Wheatley rather than Chell – but there was a touch more humanity to her. It was understated, but it was there, as if she now remembered what humanity had felt like. To Chell it was quite disconcerting. She'd happily placed GLaDOS firmly in the category of 'enemy'. Now they were allies, and it felt strange and unnatural. Still, putting GLaDOS back in charge absolutely made sense. Despite whatever else she had done, she had always kept the facility running to the best of her ability. Wheatley, apparently, didn't even know how to.

Navigating the unsafe structure at the bottom of the salt mine hadn't been easy, and learning how to use new test elements in order to get through had been tedious, but they'd eventually made it up to the top of test shaft nine. Chell had seen the environment change the higher they got, each area an untidy, badly-preserved slice of history, from 1952 up to the 80s. She'd heard Cave Johnson age in his ongoing pre-recorded messages as he deteriorated under the influence of lunar poisoning, had seen his image grow more frail in his portraits. She'd then been faced with a test chamber that required her to literally paint the walls with the ground-up moon rock gel that had made him sick. GLaDOS had remained silent there, giving Chell no idea whether she was subjecting herself to future illness or not. But there'd been no other way through, and so she'd powered on, trying to come into minimal contact with the stuff. It was yet another thing she'd stored at the back of her mind to worry about later.

Finally they'd reached the huge transition seal at the top of the shaft, where GLaDOS informed her that the best way to defeat Wheatley was with a paradox. Chell was sceptical, but they were low on options. She just wanted to get on with things and leave. Her entire body ached, and she was still woozy from lying unconscious at the bottom of the elevator shaft for who-knew how long. The fall had been brutal, even with the long-fall boots.

Vault door open, she'd gratefully scrambled up into the crude elevator, ascending up and out of Cave Johnson's world, and into what she supposed was Caroline's legacy. Once they were back in the Aperture they were both familiar with, Chell and her potato ally found Wheatley right away, trying his hardest to conduct tests with no test subjects. His solution to that was to create weighted storage cubes that could walk themselves onto buttons. This, he'd done by creating a strange kind of cube/turret hybrid that was doing everything _but_ walking onto the button.

 _Of course,_ Chell had thought to herself as she looked at the scene in the test chamber, _completely the most logical thing to do_.

She hadn't been particularly hopeful about GLaDOS's plan to take Wheatley out with a paradox, but she was still crushed when it failed. As far as she knew, they didn't have a back-up. Or if they had, GLaDOS was keeping it to herself. Chell decided to fall back on a tried and tested technique: get to the central chamber and wreak havoc from there. It was clear that another core transfer needed to take place. Other than that, she was running blind with no idea what to do.

 _Just like usual then. Although I had Doug's murals for guidance before..._

She was trying not to think about Doug. Truth be told, she was worried about him. Wheatley's test chambers were chaotic, constructed from bits and pieces of other tests, often with only the bare essentials with regards to floor and wall structure. Several times Chell had had to work around an almost-entirely missing floor, relying on anti-gravity funnels to ferry her across gaps. Floating across the dizzying, murky depths on something so insubstantial was not her idea of fun, but she had no choice. From what she could gather from the glimpses she got of the areas outside the testing track, Wheatley's mashing together of the test chambers had disrupted the entire environment around them. She had seen dozens of broken walkways, smashed walls, transportation tubes forced to cut through walls and floors, all of it accompanied by a worryingly-constant stream of falling tiles from above. She could get by in the test chambers because Wheatley needed her there, but Doug... He was running in a minefield out there, and Chell was afraid that one false step could send him falling to his death, if Wheatley didn't accidentally crush him first.

While making her way out of old Aperture, she had had plenty of time to reflect on her former-ally's conduct, and had come to the conclusion that his programming and personality had simply made him wholly unsuitable for the responsibility he'd taken on. Wheatley was designed to make bad decisions. His actions now that he was in power were a self-fulfilling prophecy. It wasn't his fault, she knew that, but she was livid anyway. She'd always known about his selfishness, she'd coped with it on a daily basis, but he'd seemed so adamant about getting out of Aperture that she'd followed him without question. Part of her couldn't help but wonder whether the man would have acted as the core had. She had never known Darren Wheatley, not really. Knowing Wheatley-the-sphere was not the same thing as knowing Wheatley-the-man. But if she could have known whether the man would have turned on her in the same way, it would help her to know whether she could truly blame Wheatley or whether she had to lay that blame on the people who built him. Since she had no fixed direction for her anger, however, she was focusing it on Wheatley regardless of whether it was fair. After GLaDOS's paradox failed and Chell found herself a test subject _yet again_ , she stopped caring about what was fair.

As she worked her way through Wheatley's shambolic wreckage of a testing track, she began to gain some clarity about his behaviour and, to her surprise, GLaDOS's. It became apparent very quickly that he was driven by a programmed urge to test that he was physically incapable of ignoring. The chassis he was now housed in made sure of that. GLaDOS eventually explained to her that the mainframe had what she referred to as a euphoric response to testing. Chell would have been sceptical about that had Wheatley not been quite so thorough in his reaction to said euphoria, making several loud moans that made her cringe.

 _They built him to sound human, but was_ that _really necessary?_

She found herself grateful for GLaDOS's apparent dignity and silence while testing. Things could have felt a lot more awkward otherwise.

 _You're the one making this awkward_ , Chell scolded herself. _He's a robotic ball, he probably has no idea that he sounds like..._ She couldn't even finish the thought.

Still, despite the general weirdness of the situation, it had shed some light on GLaDOS's need for test subjects. Not enough that Chell could forgive her, (or Wheatley, for that matter), for trying to kill her, but it gave her some understanding into their desperation. The more she learned about it, the more the test euphoria reminded her of a drug habit, and Wheatley soon showed signs of being an addict.

The situation evolved quicker than Chell was expecting. Wheatley seemed to adapt to the test solution euphoria with astonishing speed, something that surprised even GLaDOS. Despite Chell solving the tests with her usual efficiency, her efforts were never good enough for Wheatley. The more he adapted, the more frantic he became, finding alternative means of fixing the 'problem', including moving the entire test closer to the central chamber. GLaDOS seemed happy about that development, and Chell saw the advantages of it too. The central chamber was where they were trying to get to, after all. But Wheatley's method of moving the test closer meant literally shoving anything else out of the way, and once again Chell found herself fearing for Doug's safety.

 _He always stayed pretty close before,_ she reflected. _Just for once, please say he kept his distance._

She didn't even know who she was pleading with. The patron saint of scientists, perhaps.

She was uncertain about everything. She'd resented being GLaDOS's test subject, but at least that had offered a certain amount of stability. Wheatley was anything but stable, and his test chambers reflected that. Chell had had a plan before. There had been some comfort, almost routine, in carrying it out. However inexact it had been, it seemed meticulous compared to the way she was improvising now. It didn't help that Wheatley kept changing the rules.

Chell had to ride one of the anti-gravity funnels between tests due to a missing elevator that had apparently melted. In trying to successfully navigate her to the next room, Wheatley had thrown her into the path of danger more than once. Firstly, she had almost been crushed by a moving test chamber, then she'd narrowly avoided falling to her death when he turned off the funnel, dropping through the ceiling into an office that was thankfully below.

 _He might actually get me killed by accident_ , she thought as she landed, shaken, surrounded by crumbled ceiling tiles.

"After seeing what he's done to my facility," GLaDOS spoke up as Chell shook the dust off the portal gun, "after we take over again, is it all right if I kill him?"

Chell didn't respond to that, recognising it as a rhetorical question. GLaDOS didn't ask permission from anybody, she simply wanted to vent some of her rage. There was only room for so much fury in the potato. Chell was surprised that she hadn't fried it already.

Wheatley's obvious shock as they entered the nearest test chamber sent alarm bells ringing in Chell's mind. The core had thought they were dead, but it hadn't devastated him the way losing his only test subject should have. It was evident that he had an alternative in place. Chell realised at once that she and GLaDOS had become surplus to requirements. Unfortunately, Wheatley had realised it too.

"After you told me to turn that beam off," he said conversationally, peering at her through the monitor on the wall, "I thought I'd lost you. Went poking around for other test subjects. No luck there, everyone's still dead. Oh! But I did find something. Reminds me: I've got a big surprise for you two. Seriously, look forward to it."

Chell shot him a wary look, redirecting some propulsion gel with the help of one of the funnels. Surprises from Aperture constructs, in her experience, were never good. GLaDOS's optic flickered as she registered the development, and Chell wondered what she was thinking.

After yet another heart-stopping fling out across the bottomless pit, Chell made her way to the exit. She was feeling decidedly jittery, constantly in anticipation of Wheatley making some kind of move that would see her dead.

"You two are going to _love_ this big surprise," Wheatley enthused as she went. "In fact, you might say that you're both going to love it…to death. Love it…until it kills you. Until you're dead." He chuckled. "All right? I don't know whether you're picking up on what I'm saying there, but…"

"Yes, thanks, we get it," GLaDOS assured him dryly.

All Chell could manage to feel at the barefaced declaration was weariness piled on top of her continual tension. They were running out of time, and they didn't even know where they were in relation to the central chamber. Panicking was not an option, but she wasn't sure what else to do. She hadn't panicked at all so far, which, considering what she'd been through, was a miracle.

 _Why does he want me dead? What did I ever do to deserve that?_

Addiction or no addiction, there was no excuse for him wanting to kill her. She wasn't about to let him succeed though. She'd come too far.

 _Keep going_ , she told herself when GLaDOS remained annoyingly silent. _Something will give sooner or later._

* * *

"I didn't imagine that, did I?" Doug shot over his shoulder, the fear evident in his voice. "He really said that he plans to kill them?"

"He really said that."

"But it sounds like something I would hear...you know...when my mind lies," he said hopefully.

"Think," the cube advised him gravely. "You heard the echo. You felt the reverb. That isn't your mind."

Doug nodded in acceptance, feeling the weight of the burden like physical hands pressing down on his shoulders. He and the cube were making their way alongside the testing track, having stumbled across it by chance when the melted elevator pushed Chell in a different direction than Wheatley had intended. It was a hazardous path, forcing him to rely on all of the agility he had honed over the years. Strangely, though, the intense focus required was keeping his head fairly clear.

"I have to break her out of there," he declared. "But where? There's no order to this. Wheatley's redecorating is making her skip entire tests. How am I supposed to know where she'll go?"

The cube had no answers.

Doug scrambled up the bare metalwork of a dilapidated test chamber, hearing the eerie sounds of Wheatley's maniacal laughter echoing out from the neighbouring room where Chell was. Emerging up on top of the boxy structure, Doug gazed out across the strangely empty space ahead. Entire blocks of chambers were missing, others were on fire. The exit to Chell's test was far ahead, separated from its room. The only way to get to it would be with an extremely accurate fling tactic. He looked at it in dismay, knowing full well that he would never make it without taking a much longer route around. By the time he'd done that, Chell would most likely be several chambers ahead.

Doug breathed heavily, fighting to remain calm. He'd never felt so utterly helpless. But there was nothing for it, he _had_ to take the long route. It was either that or go back.

He heard further snatches of Wheatley's chatter as he went, keeping him updated of Chell's progress. She solved the test after approximately ten minutes, prompting a worryingly unenthusiastic response from Wheatley. That was followed by his assurances that she and GLaDOS would only have to wait two more chambers before his big surprise.

Doug put on an extra burst of speed, running across the roofs of the chambers alongside Chell's, trying his hardest to catch up before she got two chambers further. His leg protested his efforts, sending him painful reminders that it was still healing. As if he'd forgotten. The cube and the rest of the contents of his bag thumped irritatingly against his back as he ran, but still he kept on.

And then he heard something that doused his heart in ice water: Wheatley's crowing, accompanied by the sound of an aerial faith plate.

"Surprise! We're doing it now!"


	23. Breakdown

**Unknown year.  
Breakdown.**

Chell dodged Wheatley's trap, of course. It was mere minutes between realising it had been sprung early and her escape, but to Doug it felt like a lifetime. He was too far behind to see anything, but Wheatley's yelling through the speaker system gave him a running commentary of what was going on. If he'd had the luxury of time to reflect, he would have scolded himself for doubting her, but fear took precedence over all other emotions. She'd been lucky so many times, he dreaded the day that luck would run out. It was down to her as well, of course – her temperament, her skills – but Doug was a realist. For all he admired what she'd achieved, he knew they had both been very lucky. So far.

It all happened faster than Doug could process it. All he could do was keep running while he listened to Wheatley sounding pleased with himself. Then he heard the core's shouts of anger as Chell made a move he didn't like, followed by frantic yells for her to come back.

 _She made it!_

"But for how long?" the cube pondered anxiously, as the sound of crashing echoed back to them. "He's smashing the place up even more looking for her."

"We need to get somewhere safe," he said in agreement, wincing at the noise, and its proximity to his precarious position.

"There _is_ nowhere safe," the cube squawked,

"There is," Doug countered, the thought suddenly occurring to him, "The central chamber. It's the one place he won't smash, isn't it?"

"Even if you're right, who's to say he won't just kill us?"

"He could kill us _here_. At least this way we have a chance. Chell is…" He trailed off, swallowing. "…Chell is on her own for now. We can't catch up, we can't help. We just need to stay alive. That's what you wanted less than an hour ago."

"I still want that," the cube shot back huffily, "there's no need to get snippy with _me_. I just think that marching up to the central chamber is a bad idea."

Doug sighed. At the back of his mind, he was aware that he was just arguing with himself. It didn't quell his flutter of irritation at the cube's words, however. "You're entitled to your opinion," he told it firmly, "but _I'm_ the one with the legs."

With that, he took off running.

* * *

Chell's lungs were on fire, her body once again grimy with sweat. She risked a quick pit stop, resting her back against a cool corridor wall as she caught her breath. Wheatley took a much more hands-on approach to murdering her than GLaDOS had. She'd dodged turrets, both functional and defective, spinning blades, spiked panels, falling debris. Wheatley had talked almost constantly, and she could honestly say that she hadn't heard a word of it. She'd been too busy avoiding serious and painful injury to listen to him feed his already-sizeable ego.

 _I miss the days when GLaDOS was trying to kill me_ , she reflected dryly. _Perspective is a bitch._

She laughed silently, recognising it as the hysteria it was, and tried hard to get herself under control. GLaDOS's optic stared steadily at her, and Chell could sense the disapproval behind it.

 _Okay, enough, Chell_ , she told herself firmly. _Focus. Dad gave Wheatley to you, you put him in charge, it's your job to take him down._

Thinking of her father sobered her instantly. She hadn't been given the luxury of time to properly grieve. She gave herself a little shake, regulating her breathing. Pushing off from the wall, she continued down the corridor. The room beyond the door was a dimly-lit production line. It was quiet. Suspiciously so.

Apprehensive, Chell slowly made her way along the walkway leading down to the motionless conveyer belt. There was an open door at the end of the room, on the opposite side of the belt. The only way to get to it was to run along the production line. She eyed it warily, noticing the spiked crusher at the end, then hopped down off the walkway. The conveyer belt remained still.

Not yet free of all her wariness, she began to walk down it. Although part of her was expecting it, it still threw her off balance when it started moving in the direction of the crusher. She dropped to one knee, scrambling to get back up before she was pulled underneath it. Desperately, she leapt wildly to the side, managing to land awkwardly on the catwalk on the other side of the belt. One hand came off the portal gun as she steadied herself, and GLaDOS gave a quiet, indignant squeak as the potato bumped against the metal stairs.

Chell drew in a ragged breath. The constant narrow escapes were beginning to take their toll on her composure. It was only then that she registered that Wheatley was addressing her.

"Let me just get rid of this catwalk," he was saying.

Chell winced as something rushed past her, slamming into the walkway beside the exit with a huge, vibrating crash. When she looked up and peered between the gaps in the stairs, she saw that the easy route to the door had gone.

"There we go," he said cheerfully. "I wanted to talk to you for a moment, if I may."

Knowing he would rattle on like an express train with or without her consent, Chell got to her feet, shaking loose strands of hair out of her face.

"I'll be honest, the death traps have been a bit of a failure so far. For both of us, I think you'll agree. And you are getting very close to my lair."

She shot the monitor a sharp look. _Lair? Really?_

As if reading her expression, he chuckled, sounding a little embarrassed. "'Lair'. Heh, weird, isn't it? First time I've said it out loud. Sounds a bit…sounds a bit ridiculous really."

Chell rolled her eyes, climbing the short flight of stairs up to what turned out to be a dead end. There was a button attached to the railing there, but she couldn't see what it was supposed to do. Pressing it did nothing. Instead, she took the opportunity to survey the area, trying to figure a way to the door.

"But," Wheatley continued, not seeming at all bothered by her lack of interest, "uh, I can assure you, it is one. It is a proper lair. Deadly lair. And, uh, I just wanted to give you the chance to kill yourself now. Before you get to the lair. Uh, you can just jump into that masher just there. Uh, less a death trap, more a death option for you."

She bit her tongue, trying to remain calm. Wheatley's obsession with her death was starting to irk her past the point of mere irritation.

"Sounds crazy, I know. But hear me out, hear me out. Once you get to my lair, death will not be optional, all right, it _will_ be mandatory. No tricks, no surprises, just you dying as a result of me killing you in a very, very gruesome way."

Chell felt a brief flicker of anger, but it died before it could really take hold, pushed aside by what she saw next. As she turned away from Wheatley's monitor in disgust, her attention was caught by a flash of white in the window above. She lifted her gaze, mouth falling open in surprise as she took in the sight of the human figure behind the glass.

He looked like the ghost of her friend. In a surreal way, he was almost colourless: pale clothes, pale skin and dark hair, the monochrome broken only by the alarming rusty red blood stain on his right leg. Behind the tangled, wild hair and unkempt beard, she couldn't see much of his face, but she could tell he was as shocked as she was.

 _He didn't intend to be seen_ , she realised.

He was too far away for her to properly make out his expression, but she hoped he could see her smile. Perhaps it was a stupid time to be smiling, but she couldn't help it. He was alive. He was _right there_ , a tangible figure, no longer represented only by the things he left behind. After a moment's hesitation, he lifted a hand and pressed his palm to the glass. Chell's smile widened.

"I tell you," said Wheatley, cutting through her distracted thoughts, "if I was up against impossible odds, this is the way I'd want to go out: mashed with dignity. That'd be the way I'd choose."

Clearly he'd been talking the entire time she'd been side-tracked. Reluctantly, she tore her gaze away from Doug, the faint trembling of the facility reminding her that she needed to find a way to Wheatley's lair.

 _He's right, it does sound ridiculous_.

"And here's the best part!" the core said enthusiastically. "There's a conveyer belt that will convey you in convenient comfort right into the masher. You won't have to lift a finger. Everything's been taken care of. Didn't have to. Didn't have to do that."

Looking around, she searched for a way to progress. If there was one. She was coming up short. A faint knocking sound pulled her attention back to Doug. He gestured to the button in front of her. When she looked down at it, she saw that its tiny display was now lit green, the word 'active' written there encouragingly. She shot him a quick, grateful smile before pressing the button. The glass transport tube underneath his window dropped its cargo onto the concrete floor below. She jumped as it exploded, not expecting the tube to be ferrying bombs around, but it gave her an idea. Biting back an impish grin, she shot portals underneath the tube and in the wall opposite Wheatley's monitor. She pressed the button again, sending a bomb straight into the screen, cracking it instantly and cutting off the core's ongoing speech.

"Okay," he said heatedly, "I'll take that as a no, then. Fine. Well. May the best man win. Sphere. May the best sphere win. Swap that, swap that in. Much more clever. Books." With that, his image vanished from the broken screen.

Chell glanced back up at the office window, giving Doug a nod of thanks. He nodded back in return. GLaDOS remained silent. Chell found herself grateful that the angle of the potato meant that there was no way the A.I. could have spotted him.

Turning back to the exit out of there, Chell looked at what she had to work with. There was a pipe of propulsion gel nearby, which provided the answer with a jolt of clarity. She redirected her portal underneath the pipe, sending a bomb smashing into it. The slick orange gel spilled out, bubbling up out of the other portal like a strange, tangerine fountain. She shot again, coating the conveyer belt in the gel. With the burst of extra speed it would give her, she could outrun the momentum towards the masher.

She hesitated, considering all that might be ahead of her. Wheatley's traps had been slapdash but effective so far. It had been quick reactions and luck that had spared her, but at any moment she knew she might make a fatal mistake. If all went well, however, she would try her hardest to get out. She needed Doug to do the same.

She looked back up at him, tilting the portal gun to keep GLaDOS's view away, and raised a hand, one finger pointing at the ceiling. Raising her eyebrows expectantly, she waited for him to interpret her question.

He nodded, touching his hand to his chest in a gesture that indicated a promise. Then he smiled, although it looked forced, and she knew he was wishing her luck. She sent him a shaky smile in return before retreating down the stairs.

Taking a deep breath, she braced herself and jumped onto the conveyer belt, sprinting along the speed-enhancing gel until she shot out of the portal under the pipe, getting doused in the stuff as she did so. She shook the worst of it off, wiping GLaDOS's optic clean, then jogged through the door towards her former ally's lair.

* * *

Doug watched Chell sprint out of sight at an unnatural speed. Her exit out of the room was hidden from view by structure of the walls, but he knew when she'd moved on, as the removal of the portals meant the conveyer belt soon looked back to normal.

He was trembling with the adrenaline of being unexpectedly seen. He had timed his look out of the window at precisely the wrong moment, but he couldn't regret it, not after he'd had the chance to interact with her again. She'd been shocked to see him there, but glad after that, he was sure of it. Sometimes the voices tried to convince him that he'd changed too much for Chell to want to continue their friendship, but he'd held fast to his knowledge of her character. She stood by people. She was stubborn that way.

"What do we do now?" the cube asked. "Wait here?"

Doug considered, turning away from the window. "No. We'll follow. But at a distance."

"But…"

"If she succeeds," he went on, cutting off the cube's protests, "and she escapes, we need to be close by."

The cube fell silent, and Doug left the office behind, walking the shuddering corridors with some difficulty.

 _It's getting worse,_ he thought, throwing a hand out to the wall for support. _We're almost out of time. Either Chell has to prevail soon, or we all go down with this facility._

 _Would that be so bad?_ a voice asked. _To see all of this buried and gone, never to bother anyone again?_

The logic to its words was frightening, and Doug shook his head firmly. "No. I'm being selfish on this one. I want to live. Moreover, I want Chell to live."

"That's a turn around," the cube commented, sounding pleased. "She's good for you."

He nodded in agreement. The sight of Chell, battered but still so determined, had been like a shot of adrenaline to his system, pushing any traces of a defeatist attitude to the far-reaches of his thoughts.

He threw open the door at the end of the corridor, emerging on a tiny piece of broken walkway.

 _Dead end._

There was chaos ahead. The central chamber was almost unrecognisable, the surrounding area more so. Narrowing his eyes thoughtfully as he surveyed the area, Doug suspected that the chamber wasn't even in its original location. Looking up, he surmised that they were much closer to the surface than he'd known. Why Wheatley would have moved the chamber there was anyone's guess. He had his own brand of logic that drove his actions. The cylindrical room hung alone in the open space, flanked by random, boxy test chambers. The once-dark area was lit with pale, sickly yellow light from the overheating reactor, and the air felt uncomfortably warm. There was no route to the central chamber but for one of the blue funnels from the tests.

"Is that really the path we have to take?" the cube asked him fretfully.

"I'm afraid so," he replied grimly, his stomach already churning at the thought.

He edged as close to the end of the walkway as he dared, peering into the area where the funnel was coming from. He could just see the corner of a portal-compatible surface. Aiming the ASHPD, he shot into it, sighing in relief when the portal blossomed into life. He didn't think he was up to taking Chell's propulsion gel-assisted route. He returned to the corridor to shoot his second portal into the wall and hopped through, grimacing as the shift in gravity flipped him over. Coming up out of the floor, he managed to stay on his feet, but he stumbled clumsily.

The funnel was directly above him, too high to reach unaided. A runway of propulsion gel led into a blank wall, and he immediately saw what Chell had done. It seemed he'd have to do the same. Shooting his second portal into the wall, he took a deep breath, plucking up the courage. He could see the funnel through the portal. It wasn't unreachable. But if he messed up, he'd have a painful fall back to the ground, no boots to help him land safely.

"We have no choice," the cube told him, "let's just do it."

Gritting his teeth, Doug ran. The gel increased his sprint to impossible speeds, and he was through the portal in the blink of an eye, launched up in the air towards the funnel. The mysterious azure beam embraced him as he tucked his legs up, drawing him in, holding him in its grasp as he began to float towards the central chamber. There was literally nothing beneath him. It made him light-headed to think about it. If the funnel should deactivate for any reason…

"Don't," said the cube strictly. "We're nearly there, look."

He turned his gaze forward, watching the walkway at the end come closer and closer until he could extend his legs and slowly slip out of the beam, dropping safely on the gantry. He breathed deeply, wiping his sweating hands on his lab coat. They were underneath the central chamber, following in Chell's footsteps. Doug could hear Wheatley's voice echoing above, but he couldn't pick out any words.

He headed along the catwalk, up some stairs, through a door to what looked like another dead end at first glance, but which a couple of portals soon made traversable. After a long drop that had him landing in a painful crouch, he emerged into an area near the old maintenance walkways that had apparently accompanied the chamber on its relocation. Bypassing a collection of dead cores, he made his way along the gantry, which hadn't changed as much as the rest of the chamber, although there were more transport tubes leading into the room above. The breaker room at the end of the walkway was exactly the same, although it was surrounded by a collection of small fires.

"Enough!" he heard Wheatley bellow as he moved closer. "I told you not to put these cores on me, but you don't listen, do you? Quiet, all the time. Quietly not listening to a word I say. Judging me. Silently. The worst kind. All I wanted to do was make everything better for me. All you had to do was solve a couple of hundred simple tests for a few years. And you couldn't even let me have that, could you?"

He wasn't sure whether Chell responded to that. He doubted it. Rounding the corner, he spotted GLaDOS attached to the console in the breaker room, her optic flickering as she worked.

"Rattmann," she said, the surprise evident in her voice. "You're alive."

"And you," he replied cautiously. The potato was a strange shade of orange. From the propulsion gel, he guessed.

"NOBODY IS GOING TO SPACE, MATE!" Wheatley screamed inexplicably.

"For now," GLaDOS told him, an edge of concern underlying her words. "These fires are getting pretty close. I need this potato to stay intact until that little idiot up there is corrupt enough for a transfer."

Doug stepped up to the door, eyes sweeping the area for something that would help. The switches that used to line the curved walls of the room had gone, but the console remained the same.

"There's a coolant canister above the door," GLaDOS pointed out.

Glancing up, he saw that she was right, and he reached up to unclip it, spraying the stuff on the nearest flames until they died down enough to be stamped out.

"Oh, thanks," she said earnestly.

Doug frowned at her, not used to hearing her sound so genuine and vulnerable. Before he could comment, however, he heard Wheatley give a cry from above.

"Great," GLaDOS said to herself. "Here's another core," she added, and he heard her voice echo through the speakers in the main chamber, "this one should do it."

"What are you doing?" Doug asked.

"We're knocking him out and attaching corrupt cores to the chassis," she explained. "If I'm right, this last one should be enough to start a transfer."

As if on cue, an announcement sounded above. "Warning: Core corruption at one-hundred percent."

"That's it!" GLaDOS hissed in excitement. "You should stand back, Rattmann, unless you want to go up there too."

Puzzled at her use of his surname rather than her usual favourite 'Rat Man', Doug obediently stumbled back out of the breaker room just in time to see the console rise, taking her out of sight. He heard Wheatley give a pained moan.

"Manual core replacement required," the announcer said.

"Oh! I see!" Wheatley spoke up with a chuckle.

 _Why is he laughing?_ Doug wondered nervously. _He shouldn't be laughing at this point. Something isn't right._

"Substitute core, are you ready to start?" asked the announcer.

"Yes!" GLaDOS cried eagerly. "Come on!"

"Corrupted core, are you ready to start?"

Wheatley's response was coldly mocking. "What do you think?"

"Interpreting vague answer as 'yes'."

"Nononono, no, no!" he backpedalled, sounding alarmed. "Didn't pick up on my sarcasm!"

"Stalemate detected."

Doug bit his lip anxiously. If Chell managed to get to the stalemate resolution button, the whole thing would be over in seconds. He glanced up at the ceiling, but it was completely intact, yielding no views of the main chamber. Unsure what to do or where to go, he gripped the railing with a white-knuckled hand, wondering just what was going on above him. He heard GLaDOS and Wheatley shouting over each other, respectively persuading Chell to press or ignore the button. There came the sound of portals activating, then an explosion shook the structure, sending Doug into an instinctive crouch.

"Part five!" yelled Wheatley triumphantly. "Booby trap the stalemate button!"

Doug dropped his portal device, which fell to the walkway floor with a metallic clang, and clung on to the railing. Eyes wide in horror, he felt his heartbeat increase as the fear swept over him.

"What happened?" shrieked the cube.

He didn't answer, too stunned to react, his mind cluttered with a single thought. _Chell…_

It was Wheatley, surprisingly, who renewed his hope. "What? Are you still alive?" he raged. "You are joking! You have got to be kidding me!"

Doug took a shaky breath, closing his eyes as he fought to regain some measure of calm before he lost control completely. The cube began quietly humming.

"Well, I'm still in control, and I have NO IDEA HOW TO FIX THIS PLACE!" Wheatley went on, sounding enraged, and rather like he was using it to mask his utter terror. "Oh, you had to play bloody cat and mouse, didn't you? While people were trying to work. Yeah, well now we're all going to pay the price, because WE'RE ALL GOING TO BLOODY DIE!"

A few tiles dropped down from what was the ceiling for Doug, the floor for Chell, falling down into the pit along with the debris that had broken them. Desperate to know what was happening, Doug glanced up, but all he could see through the gap was dark wall.

"Oh, brilliant, yeah," said Wheatley, his voice louder now. "Take one more look at your precious human moon, because it cannot help you now."

Doug heard Chell fire the portal gun.

"What the…!" Wheatley said in surprise. Then he gave a panicked shout. "Aggggghhh!"

There came a strange sort of rushing sound from the room above, and Doug felt a persistent tug that had him clinging to the railing all the tighter. His portal gun was swept off the walkway, shooting up towards the missing tiles where it promptly got stuck, the gap too small for it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the console return back down to the ground in the breaker room. GLaDOS's potato form was no longer on it.

"I already fixed it!" he heard her say, her voice no longer muffled and tinny. "And you are _not_ coming back!"

Before Doug could form the thought about who she was talking to, a broken section of railing flew past him, knocking the portal gun aside. Then something hit him on the back of the head. His vision sparked and blurred, then went dark, and he never had time to find out if Chell had survived.


	24. Exodus

**Unknown year.  
Exodus.**

Chell's injuries would surely kill her. She knew that, yet she clung on to life, clutching Wheatley's handles with a cast-iron grip. To let go would mean certain death, frozen, suffocated in the crushing blackness of space within minutes. The debris from the central chamber rushed past her as she stared back at Wheatley, looking longingly at the safety of the room in the portal behind him.

"Let go!" he ordered her selfishly. "Let go! I'm still connected, I can pull myself in. I can still fix this!"

GLaDOS's robotic arm snaked towards him through the portal. "I already fixed it!" she told him acerbically. "And you are _not_ coming back!"

"Oh no, change of plans," he said hurriedly. "Hold on to me. Tighter!"

Chell had no time to make a decision either way. The robotic arm gripped her wrist, knocking Wheatley aside. He spun away into the depths of space, his voice fading.

"Grab me, grab me, grab me! Grab meeee!"

GLaDOS pulled her back inside and closed the portal, dropping her none too gently to the ground. Chell lay completely still for the first time in days, able to do nothing but breathe, and lucky to even be doing that. She was exhausted, cold and damp from the sprinklers that had put out the fires in the main chamber, and in too much pain to move. The bombs Wheatley had hidden by the stalemate resolution button had not done as much damage as the core had initially intended. Chell had spotted them at the last minute, retreating as fast as she could, but she'd been caught in the blast regardless. She didn't know enough about explosions to know exactly what the extent of her injuries were, but she had burns up her right arm, where she'd thrown it up in front of her face, and her entire body hurt. There was a wound in her side that was making her feel light-headed. She wasn't sure how it had gotten there, but it was bleeding heavily enough to cause her concern.

As she lay motionless, her cheek pressed to a floor that was no longer rocked by tremors, she saw the robotic arm tug GLaDOS's head into her line of sight. The yellow optic peered at her as she passed, but she said nothing. Chell felt her eyelids grow heavy, and she fought to stay awake. Closing her eyes would be a death sentence, she was sure of it. She'd read that somewhere, hadn't she? She was so tired, though.

 _Don't do it_ , she ordered herself firmly.

But it was no use. Her shattered body was done taking commands, even from herself. Her eyes drifted shut, cutting her off from the world.

* * *

Chell awoke to lights that were painfully bright. She squinted, adjusting, realising that she was lying on the floor of an elevator. Her head felt fuzzy, but her body was pleasantly numb. Her arm and torso had been firmly bandaged, and she could feel a dressing on her shoulder too. She didn't even remember having an injury there. Her long fall boots were gone, but her clothing was dry again.

As she moved stiffly to a sitting position, she saw that she was being watched by two bipedal robots. They startled her momentarily, until she realised that they weren't armed with anything resembling a weapon.

 _Are those the things Wheatley was going to replace me with?_ she wondered inwardly.

They retreated when she got to her feet, although she couldn't fathom why. She was hardly a threat. She barely felt able to stand.

"Oh, thank god you're all right," GLaDOS said, with more sincerity that Chell would have expected.

The central chamber was back to normal, once more the circular, minimalist room that GLaDOS preferred. The A.I. herself was back to normal too, in her own body again, and in control of the facility.

"You know, being Caroline taught me a valuable lesson. I thought you were my greatest enemy. When all along you were my best friend."

 _That explains why she patched me up_ , Chell thought. _And maybe why I'm still alive._

It gave her a tentative burst of hope that perhaps she would make it out of Aperture after all. During the fight with Wheatley and all the narrow escapes she'd had, she was starting to wonder whether it was truly likely.

"The surge of emotion that shot through me when I saved your life taught me an even more valuable lesson," GLaDOS went on. "Where Caroline lives in my brain."

"Caroline deleted," reported the announcer.

Chell froze, gripping the railing that lined the side of the elevator. Her fragile hope wavered.

"Goodbye, Caroline," GLaDOS said in a pensive tone of farewell. "You know, deleting Caroline just now taught me a valuable lesson. The best solution to a problem is usually the easiest one. And I'll be honest. Killing you is hard."

Chell frowned at her, too tired to try and figure out where the conversation was going.

"You know what my days used to be like?" GLaDOS asked rhetorically. "I just tested. Nobody murdered me. Or put me in a potato. Or fed me to birds. I had a pretty good life. And then you showed up. You dangerous, mute lunatic."

Chell pressed her lips together firmly, schooling her expression.

GLaDOS turned her amber gaze in her direction. "So you know what? You win. Just go."

The elevator started to rise, and Chell tightened her grip on the railing, taken aback. She looked down at her enemy-turned-ally with wide eyes. Was she really…?

GLaDOS chuckled gently. "It's been fun. Don't come back."

And then she was gone. Chell watched the rapidly-passing levels of the facility open-mouthed as the elevator took her closer to the surface.

 _GLaDOS is letting me go_ , she repeated to herself, trying to get the message to sink in.

But then the elevator slowed, coming to a stop in front of a locked door. As she stood there, its light changed to green and it opened, revealing four turrets. Chell shot backwards as far as she could go, a jolt of alarm making her gasp. She should have known it was too good to be true.

The turrets stared at her for a beat, their scarlet laser sights dotting her vest top. Then, bizarrely, they started to produce music. Chell stared back at them, breathing hard, unsure what to make of it.

 _I've lost my mind_ , she thought to herself. _I've finally snapped._

The elevator jolted into life again, lifting her up another dozen or so floors, then slowed once more to carry her past a vast room filled with turrets. All of them were singing, in what Chell thought was Italian. A gigantic, leopard-skinned turret sat at the very back wearing a crown, its voice clearer than the rest.

 _This is insane. This is...completely insane._

She was starting to feel woozy again, the sight blurring before her eyes. The elevator picked up speed, carrying her up countless more levels until it came to an abrupt halt in front of an industrial-looking door in a small room. As she watched, it swung open, letting golden sunlight flood the area. The elevator doors slid open and Chell stumbled out of it, immediately feeling the warmth. She darted through in a trice, taking in the cerulean sky, fluffy white clouds, and vast field of wheat.

The door slammed shut behind her, making her jump. She spun, seeing that she had come from a tiny shed made of corrugated metal. It sat on a small patch of concrete, flanked by a pile of junk. She heard a rattling, clanging sound coming from inside, growing closer, and she warily took a few steps backwards. The door opened again, just long enough to spit out a charred, blackened companion cube.

 _What is going on?_

The journey up from GLaDOS's chamber had been almost too fast for her brain to keep up with. The whole situation felt surreal.

 _Wait,_ she thought, _I was close to the surface already. I shot a portal on the moon through the ceiling._

It seemed that GLaDOS had returned her room to its previous location while she'd been out cold. Either that or she was still asleep, and the turrets and the outside world were a dream.

 _No_ , she decided firmly. _I can feel the heat of the sun on my back. This concrete is warm and rough under my feet, and that breeze is moving my hair._

She ignored the cube for the time being, taking stock of her surroundings. She didn't recognise the shed, and there were dozens of wheat fields in Michigan. This one was huge, though, stretching on for miles in every direction. Even when she stood on the cube, all she could see was wheat. That was unusual. She had no idea where the parking lot was from here, or main reception.

 _Doug might know. I have to trust that he'll make it up here. He promised me._

But even if he did make it, who was to say that he'd come out the same way? They might end up miles apart, each waiting for the other. There was no telling exactly how big Aperture was or how much space it really took up.

Chell sat down on the cube, resting her aching feet. Everything was uncertain, and she didn't know what to do. There was nothing _to_ do except wait. But how long should she wait for? How would she know? Was he even still alive? A lot could have happened while she was unconscious.

Out of the blue, she started to cry, ugly, throat-clenching sobs. Then it hit her that she was free, and she silently laughed until she could barely breathe. She cried twice more while she waited, each time feeling more cathartic than the last. She sat and rested, she walked around, hands touching the bobbing strands of wheat, she curled up and tried to sleep. Once, a remembered scene from 'The Truman Show' had her walking as far as she dared, arms outstretched as she fervently prayed she wouldn't discover any disguised walls. She didn't want to venture too far though, afraid that she'd miss Doug.

The waiting was agonising, the uncertainty: worse. After the first four hours or so, judging by the position of the sun, whatever painkillers GLaDOS had given her started to wear off. The pain sapped her energy, coupled with the lack of food and water, until she slumped against the cube in a dreamlike stupor, wondering how she could ever survive out here. Eventually, she slipped into a merciful doze, content to forget everything for a while.

* * *

When Doug awoke, he was still lying on the walkway by the breaker room. The cube was a comforting presence at his back, and he was glad it was still there. The portal gun was long gone, most likely having dropped into the pit when the strange, tugging draw had stopped. Groggily, he got to his feet, using the railing for support. His head was pounding, and he felt dried blood in his hair when he investigated with his fingers.

Looking up, he saw that the hole in the ceiling had been fixed, and he could hear GLaDOS's voice echoing in the room above.

"Override," she was saying, sounding strained. "Authorisation 20-56-38."

"Cannot override command," the announcer told her. "Caroline reinstated."

She made a soft noise of frustration. Doug frowned, confused. He wasn't used to that, having spent three years listening to her impassive tones. His footsteps rang out as he began to walk away, looking for the exit.

"Oh," said GLaDOS in surprise. "You're still down there. Come on up, Rattmann."

The gate to the breaker room slid up, and he hesitated. He knew better than to go anywhere near her, but she seemed different now, and she was the only one who could tell him what had happened to Chell.

"Don't!" squeaked the cube. "Don't be a hero. Heroes die."

Doug reached into his pocket, feeling the bullet that had been extracted from his leg. "Not always," he said quietly.

He stepped through onto the console panel and was lifted up. The hatch opened above him, and he emerged in the chamber. GLaDOS lazily spun around to peer at him, her optic appraising.

"Have you been down there this whole time?" she asked. "What were you doing?"

"I was unconscious," he answered, a trace of bitterness seeping into his voice, prompted by his sore head. "What happened after I put out those fires? There was an explosion, and then…some kind of pull…"

"The moron planted bombs in the stalemate resolution annex," GLaDOS told him. "The force of it knocked panels out of the ceiling."

"But Chell," Doug cut in anxiously, "was she…?"

"Do you want to hear this or not, Rat Man?" she retorted irritably.

Biting down his anger, he nodded. "Yes," he said through clenched teeth.

GLaDOS stared at him for a moment, as if waiting for him to interrupt her again. Then she continued. "The core chamber had been moved so close to the surface that she was able to shoot a portal on the moon. The vacuum it created pulled that little idiot straight off the mainframe."

Doug's jaw dropped as he listened, and he wondered at the depths of Chell's desperation that had made her aim for the _moon_.

"How did she avoid getting pulled through?" he asked, in as polite a tone as he could muster.

"She didn't," GLaDOS said calmly, sending a wave of panic through him. "But she held on to the moron and I brought her back through."

He looked at her in surprise. " _You_ saved her?"

GLaDOS turned away from him. "We had our differences, but she rescued me from being eaten by a bird and carried me back here. Fair's fair."

The cube made nervous noises at his back, wary at being in the central chamber, unarmed.

"Where is she now?"

"Outside."

He did a double take. "She is?"

"But she won't leave."

"What do you mean?"

GLaDOS summoned a monitor from above, and two panels moved aside to let it pass. She brought up an image from a security camera, showing him an unfamiliar field of wheat. Chell's orange-clad figure was visible, sitting with her back against a scorched companion cube.

"She's been there for almost three hours," GLaDOS said. She sounded mildly irritated and somewhat confused. "I was debating whether to send up the party escort bot. She's trespassing."

Doug fought back a smile as he saw her, not wanting to annoy GLaDOS further. "I know why she's there," he confessed. "She's waiting for me."

"Why?"

"Because we made each other a promise," he said softly.

GLaDOS looked at him steadily, her optic giving no clue as to her thoughts.

"Tell me honestly," he went on, meeting her amber gaze. "Is there any chance at all of you letting me leave?"

She remained silent for a long while, before answering, "I haven't decided yet."

"Strike a deal with her," the cube piped up. "We're so close."

"I heard you just now," Doug said, scrambling for a plan. "Trying to override something. If I help you with your programming, will you let me go?"

GLaDOS seemed surprised by the question, and took another long moment to consider her options. "Well…" she said at length, "that would be helpful. And you _did_ put out those fires."

Doug nodded, shoving his hands in his lab coat pockets to hide how much he was shaking. His fingertips found the bullet again, and somehow it made him feel calmer.

 _You've been through this much..._

"All right, Rattmann. You have a deal."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay. Bring me up to speed," he said, managing to keep his voice relatively steady.

"It's simple," she told him. "I want you to delete Caroline. Permanently."

He blinked at her, frowning, unsure if it was even possible.

"I've tried several times now. She keeps coming back."

Doug cleared his throat, searching for a delicate way of phrasing his question. "Um…may I ask why you want to delete Caroline? She's a vital part of your programming."

"She remembers," GLaDOS murmured. "She remembers what _he_ did. And she's hurt. I want to forget."

Doug swallowed hard as he nodded. It was understandable and completely reasonable. But he had to consider the consequences of such an action. Repressing Caroline had led to the chaos before, and the need for the morality sphere that had been ineffective anyway. If he removed the only conscience she had, what was to say she'd honour their deal?

"I understand," he said earnestly, "and I'll see what I can do, but for my own safety I'll be putting a time delay on the changes. Otherwise you might decide to keep me here."

"I still might decide that," she shot back.

"I don't think you will," Doug countered gently, finding that he believed it. "Back when the scientists first built this room, there was a console in a nearby office. Is it still around?"

"Yes. I kept it as a memento." As she spoke, the panels moved, bringing the old, dusty equipment up through the floor. "It's still connected."

Doug approached it, blowing the majority of the dirt off the keyboard.

"Hey!" GLaDOS protested, as it swirled onto her pristine floor.

"Do you want me to do this or not? I need to be able to see what I'm doing."

She fell silent after that, and Doug concentrated on his task. He still wasn't sure if it would be possible to simply delete Caroline. She was engrained in GLaDOS's foundation. But he might be able to block her memories. He worked steadily, sifting through the complex layers of code, while GLaDOS watched with a curious eye. It was tough going. The situation was making him nervous, which in turn made the babble in his head more difficult to ignore.

"Is there a problem?" GLaDOS asked him. "That's the third time you've stopped in the last fifteen minutes."

"I'm doing the best I can," he retorted. "You know about my condition. It can be hard to concentrate when there are voices screaming at you that you're doing everything wrong."

She turned to him, looking strangely alert. "I know," she said. "I've heard voices all my life telling me not to do things, or giving me reasons why doing what I want to do would be a bad idea. It can get…"

"Maddening," he finished.

"Yes."

"I'd…never considered how having all those cores attached to you must have felt," he admitted, feeling a sudden spark of empathy.

"But you worked on me, didn't you?" she said resentfully.

"I did," he confirmed with a nod, "but not in the way you think."

"What do you mean?"

He straightened up from the console, his back clicking. "Chell and I…we knew each other before we came to work here. When we were kids, we saw something that painted Aperture in a worrying light. Neither of us forgot it."

"What did you see?" she asked in open curiosity.

"Wheatley," he said, remembering. "The man that he was based on, anyway. We were there when he got…taken."

She recoiled a little in disgust at the name, but did not interrupt him.

"Years later, we ran into each other again when we both started working here. We decided to find out what Aperture was doing. Over the course of several years, we kept our eyes and ears open. I worked my way up to a place in the team that built you. We'd deduced by then that you were Aperture's big secret project, the one that Caroline and Wheatley had died for, but we needed more information before we could act." He sighed. It all felt _so_ long ago. "We were horrified by what they'd done. We just wanted it to stop."

"Remember who you're talking to," the cube warned him.

"It wasn't real science," he added hastily.

GLaDOS made a quiet, thoughtful noise, but said nothing. Doug returned to his work, realising the conversation was over. Then a panel moved in the floor beside him, letting a second one through. It lifted up to waist-height, displaying a collection of large plastic containers. He glanced at them in confusion before looking at GLaDOS.

"There's enough there to last you five years," she said impassively. "You should be able to find an alternative in that time."

His brow creased in puzzlement, and he picked up the nearest bottle to read the label. "This is…my medication," he said in shock.

"I cleared out the entire supply in the employee pharmacy store," she explained. "They've been stored in an air-tight vault, so they're in date."

"Thank you," he said, unable to completely quash the suspicion that she was trying to poison him. It seemed illogical though, and he tried to shove it aside. "But…why?"

"You're helping me rid myself of _my_ voices," she explained with a movement that looked like an awkward shrug.

Empathy counted for a lot, it seemed. Doug returned the bottle to the panel so he could continue working, uncomfortably aware that his efforts would most likely destroy this reasonable, fair-minded part of her.

 _We'll be gone by then_ , he assured himself, _and she has no more humans here to hurt._

He had no water to start taking the pills, and he knew that part of him would struggle to say goodbye to the cube. He also knew that in the end there'd be no real choice to make, but it would feel strange nonetheless.

GLaDOS soon realised what was missing, producing some bottles of water from somewhere in the facility. Doug reached for one, taking a quick swig to parch his dry throat. With a trembling hand he shook two capsules out of the nearest container, swallowing them before he could overthink it. The cube made no comment, conflicted by Doug's self-awareness.

The time dragged by as he worked until he finally had everything in place.

"I'm setting a three hour delay," he told GLaDOS. _Just in case you decide to come after us_ , he added silently.

"Fine," she said, although she sounded eager for the wait to be over. "Thank you," she added solemnly.

Doug nodded in acknowledgement. "Thank you for the meds."

She summoned the elevator by way of reply. Doug put the containers and water bottles in his bag. It was a tight fit, but with the portal gun gone, he just managed it. He refused to leave the cube behind, even if he had chosen to cut off its voice. He stepped into the elevator with a burst of apprehension.

GLaDOS studied him thoughtfully. "I…need you to pass on a message," she said with some hesitation. "Tell her…tell her she won't get sick."

He tilted his head, confused.

"When we were down in old Aperture," she went on, "we came into contact with some hazardous materials. She may be wondering if what killed Mr. Johnson will kill her. It won't."

"How can you be sure?" Doug asked in concern.

"I'm sure," she said firmly, her tone inviting no argument.

Realising there was more to it than he could grasp, he simply nodded. "I'll tell her."

"Goodbye, Rat Man." There was a touch of amusement and respect to the name this time.

"Goodbye."

The elevator rose smoothly up, taking him out of her chamber in a trice. It was a surprisingly short journey up, the levels blurring together as they flew past the glass doors.

"You did it," said the cube in a small voice.

"We did it," he corrected. "I told you I would always need you. That hasn't changed."

"But the capsules…"

"You're part of me," Doug reassured it. "You always have been."

The elevator ground to a halt in front of a heavy-duty door that swung open almost at once, revealing the wheat field he'd seen on the security monitor. He lurched towards it, throwing a hand up to shield his eyes from the setting sun. It was not particularly bright, but he'd had years of artificial light.

When his eyes adjusted, he lowered his arm, looking around for Chell. She was still sitting against the companion cube, her eyes wide as she took in the sight of him. With stiff, pained movements, she got to her feet, and he saw her bandages, and the multitude of cuts and bruises that marred her tanned skin. But she was alive. She was alive, and so was he, and they were together in the same space for the first time in years. He felt suddenly choked up, his relief at seeing her safe with his own eyes breaking the dam he'd constructed to keep his emotions at bay.

"Chell," he murmured in a strangled, broken voice, her image blurring as his eyes filled with grateful tears.

She stumbled towards him, throwing her arms around his neck in a hug so tight it was painful. He didn't mind it. He hugged her back, careful of her injuries, relishing the touch of another human. He'd all but forgotten what it could feel like.

"We're safe," he told her, hearing her draw in a shaky breath. "We're safe."

* * *

 **A/N:** This is not the end! I know it seems sort of like one, but we will be seeing how Chell and Doug cope with adapting to the outside.


	25. Truths

**Unknown year.  
Truths.**

They made steady progress through the wheat field despite Chell's exhaustion and Doug's limp. After he had made it clear that time was of the essence, they set off walking. Chell left her charred companion cube behind, not wanting to be slowed down by its extra weight. It was tough enough for her to keep going as it was, her injuries giving her constant pain, her lack of shoes making her grimace.

Doug turned to her as they went, his pale face full of concern. "Um...your voice," he began. "Wheatley told me you don't speak anymore."

Chell shook her head, frowning. "I can't," she mouthed, hoping that maybe irony would lend a hand and prove her sentence to be untrue. She touched her fingers to her throat and shrugged.

"What happened?"

At a loss as to how to convey the word 'neurotoxin', she shrugged again.

"I...I'm sorry," Doug said awkwardly.

Chell nodded, lips pressed tightly together. _Me too._

They didn't talk much more as they went. Doug was tired, and it was awkward for Chell to try and sign things to him when they were walking side by side. Instead, they simply enjoyed the comfortable silence, each grateful to be alive and together again. Occasionally, Doug would murmur reassurances to something unseen. Chell wasn't sure what he was talking to, but she knew he was not medicated, and so it didn't really surprise her. It was strange, certainly. She'd never really seen him like that before, except when he was a teenager before his diagnosis. Still, he seemed much more sane than she had feared he would be. His illness couldn't take away all of his natural pragmatism. The further they went, however, the less he spoke, and he no longer appeared to hear things that she couldn't.

"Those things kick in fast," he muttered after a long period of silence.

She turned to him, one eyebrow raised in question.

"I have a supply of meds," he told her. "I've only taken one dose, but…my head feels clearer than it has in years."

Chell nodded, surprised. There was a lot she needed him to explain, but she could wait. They needed to concentrate on putting some distance between Aperture and them.

It took them over an hour to reach the edge of the wheat field. Chell didn't remember any wheat fields being in the area at all, let alone one so vast, but she supposed it wasn't impossible that it was just a location she'd never seen before.

Doug had been right about the direction of the parking lot from the shed, but it was almost unrecognisable. Patches of asphalt were still visible, but most of it had been overtaken by grass and weeds. There were still cars parked there, all of them rusted, overgrown with the same determined plants. The debris from the parts of GLaDOS's original chassis that had made it to the surface was almost completely hidden in some places. The sight of its charred remains struck a bolt of dread through Chell's heart as she remembered the battle she'd fought. It wasn't so long ago from her perspective, but it felt like a lifetime.

 _I never grasped exactly how far I got thrown out of her chamber,_ she thought. _Those gravity fields malfunctioned more than I realised._

Main reception was in ruins, its walls still standing but heavily weathered. Its roof was gone. Chell wondered exactly how much time had passed while they'd both been in stasis. By the look on Doug's face, he was thinking the same thing.

Doug eyed the scene warily, clearly agitated by the fact that they were still on Aperture land. Chell was cautious too, but she didn't think GLaDOS would come after them. She'd said herself that Chell was too much trouble, and Doug hadn't exactly made things easy for her either. Chell was focusing on the positives, namely that now they knew where they were, although it was going to be a long walk before they reached anywhere else they were familiar with.

After a short trek, they reached the end of the driveway that had once connected Aperture to the main road. The road was littered with potholes, but it was obvious that it was still used occasionally, as it was largely free of weeds. Using it as a guide, they walked the route that they'd once driven on a daily basis.

They couldn't go far without stopping for a rest. By that time it was completely dark, and they both agreed that it would be foolish to try and continue. Despite the meds, Doug was still too paranoid to light a fire. Chell didn't mind, regardless of the chill in the air. She almost felt paranoid herself, feeling that she'd prefer to remain hidden in the darkness. Her voice was still gone, however, and being in pitch darkness meant that she had no way of communicating with Doug aside from squeezing his hand once for yes and twice for no whenever he asked her a question.

Mindful of her healing injuries, she slipped her arms back into her jumpsuit, zipping it up for an extra layer. She and Doug shared a can of cold baked beans before settling down to sleep, back to back to conserve warmth.

It was difficult to get comfortable enough to sleep, but Chell was so drained she found herself drifting off despite her soreness, one arm curled protectively around her bandaged waist. She was awoken in the early hours of the morning by Doug, who seemed to be attempting to have the quietest panic attack he was capable of. Concerned, she sat up, placing a hand on his shoulder as he struggled to regulate his breathing.

When he was calmer, he turned to her, eyes damp with tears. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to wake you."

She shrugged to indicate that she didn't mind, looking at him with enquiring eyes.

"I...had a dream I was back there," he explained.

Chell nodded sympathetically. She'd been surprised not to have similar dreams herself, but she'd been too exhausted to remember them.

He exhaled noisily, pressing his fingertips to his eyes. Paint-stained fingers, she noticed. In the cold, increasing light, she could assess his appearance better than she had the previous day. She'd been worried before that too much time had passed while she'd been in the stasis pod, that Doug had grown old waiting for a chance to move against GLaDOS. She was glad to see that her fears were unfounded. It was difficult to judge how much time _had_ passed for him, but his hair was still the deep shade of black that she was used to, albeit much longer and wilder. His face, although ghost-pale and gaunt, was unlined. He'd clearly attempted to keep his beard trimmed, but it was unkempt and uneven, and hid some of his more subtle expressions. Chell hadn't quite gotten used to seeing him with it.

"I'm okay," he told her, lowering his hands.

She nodded again, finding herself frustratingly limited on ways to express herself. When they reached civilisation, she planned to stock up on notepads and pens. Squeezing his shoulder, she scooted back to give him space.

"It's...it's kind of tough," he said with a self-conscious shrug. "Going back on the meds, I mean. I thought I'd be grateful. Well, I _am_ grateful, but...I'd found ways of coping, more than I ever expected to, and...it's strange being without it."

Chell shot him a quizzical look. She'd been wondering how he had managed, but hadn't found a way to convey the question.

"This companion cube speaks to me," he explained. "Used to, I mean."

Why he was carrying the cube around had been just one of many questions she had for him. She had assumed that it had lived up to its name and been a kind of companion for him.

"It gave me a clear voice to listen to. To help regulate the others," he went on. "It didn't always work, but it was better than nothing. It…spoke in your voice."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. _At least something was_ , she thought, still bitter about her muteness.

"I know it's stupid, but I can't help feeling kind of sorry that it's gone."

Chell shook her head to indicate that it wasn't stupid at all. She'd heard from GLaDOS that test subjects often got attached to the companion cubes. It must be twice as easy if it spoke back.

Doug gave a heavy sigh, then sat up straighter. "I guess we'd better get going, if you're ready."

Chell nodded, gingerly easing herself into a standing position. She was too alert to go back to sleep. Her bare feet were raw and blistered from the previous day's walking, and she knew it was going to get worse before it got better.

 _It's not like you really needed those boots_ , she thought grumpily, addressing GLaDOS. _You have robots for testing now._

Still, she was wholly unsurprised that the A.I. refused to let her leave with any valuable pieces of Aperture tech.

She and Doug had a couple of swigs of water, then continued their slow progress down the road. They were carefully rationing the bottles GLaDOS had provided, neither having any idea how long it would take them to find somewhere to restock.

A little more energetic that morning, Doug elected to tell Chell everything that had happened since he'd first put her in stasis. She was eager to hear it, surprised with herself that she'd managed to spend so many hours in his company without pressing him for answers, but they'd both been so tired.

"After…" He trailed off, shooting her a sideward glance. "Do you want me to start from the very beginning?"

She nodded firmly. She wanted to hear everything.

"Okay." He exhaled, seemingly taking a moment to cast his mind back to the last time they'd spoken. "After I put you in stasis, I went along to GLaDOS's launch as normal," he told her at length. "I was edgy, completely unfocused. I tried sharing my concerns with the others, but they just brushed them off…you know, as a consequence of my condition."

Chell rolled her eyes. It was ridiculous how often that had happened, despite the fact that he'd been fully medicated back then, on a steady routine of pills and therapy.

"It was…maddening to see them behave that way," he said with a shake of his head. "I knew I needed to survive no matter what, so I stood near the exit. Afterwards…I just wish at least one of them had listened to me. Just one."

She sent him a sympathetic look, unable to imagine the frustration and horror of being ignored in that situation.

"When it happened…her outrage and the neurotoxin…I ran. I didn't even look back. I ran for the short-term stasis pods, where I'd left you, but I used the one that was in for repair, off the main grid. Two days later I woke up to find everyone dead." He paused, collecting his thoughts.

Chell waited patiently, avoiding potholes as she walked, trying to ignore the burning discomfort in the soles of her feet.

With an audible sigh, Doug continued. "Later I found out that other scientists had survived the neurotoxin but had been captured by GLaDOS. She used them as her first test subjects."

She glanced at him sharply, one single question on her mind. He must have been able to read it clearly in her eyes, because he looked at her apologetically.

"I don't know whether your father was one of them. I hope not. I think the neurotoxin was quicker."

She nodded in grim agreement. The fact that her father was dead had been something she'd known for a while, but she'd been hoping for a little more closure. The more she relaxed into being free, away from the heightened way of living that Aperture had forced on her, the more she felt the grief creeping up on her. Despite her moment of weakness in the mural room, it hadn't hit home yet, not emotionally anyway. Once it did, she knew she'd feel it keenly.

"I was so lost in those early days," Doug said, breaking through her reflections with a tone of reminiscence. "I didn't know what to do, I felt completely alone. I knew I would run out of medication in just over a month, so that was weighing on my mind too. GLaDOS had taken complete control of the test subjects, so I couldn't release you from the pod. I made an attempt to take her down, but she stopped me from getting anywhere near the breaker room and tried to kill me. After that I went into hiding to come up with a plan." His narration paused.

Chell looked at him curiously, taking in his pained expression, surmising that he was approaching something that he found difficult to relay.

"I knew I needed help," he continued at length, "and I knew that the only people still alive as far as I was aware were the test subjects. So I went to the file room to look for an ally."

She wondered why he hadn't immediately chosen her. Upon realising that her father was most likely dead, taking down GLaDOS had become something she'd _wanted_ to do.

"As I looked through the files, I began to realise that none of them had the skills or attitude to face her...except you."

Chell turned to him, curious to know the reason behind his despondent tone.

Doug kept his gaze firmly on the road as he spoke. "I didn't want to pick you. I didn't want to...send you into GLaDOS's path. I knew if I did, my actions might get you killed. But..." He hesitated, taking a deep breath. "There was no one else," he said eventually with a little shrug. "The choice I had to make was between setting you on a dangerous, difficult course, or dooming hundreds of people to die... I...well, I'm sure you've realised which option I chose."

Now understanding the obvious guilt he felt, Chell reached up to lightly touch his arm, determined to let him know that it was okay. Despite everything she'd faced, she couldn't blame him. The choice had been impossible, and even though she'd been through hell, she knew she'd rather be awake and taking action than lying oblivious in a stasis pod. If what Wheatley had told her was true, she would likely be dead if she'd remained in stasis.

Doug glanced up at her warily, the uncertainty plain to see in his eyes. Chell quirked a tiny, supportive smile, squeezing his shoulder.

"You...forgive me?" he asked her incredulously.

There was no way for her to convey that she didn't consider there much to forgive. Instead she simply nodded, meeting his gaze earnestly. _It's okay._

He shook his head. "No, it's not okay."

Chell blinked, momentarily taken aback by how well he'd read her, but she let him continue.

"It...it was a choice _nobody_ should have to make."

That was true enough. She squeezed his shoulder again before dropping her hand.

"The worst part was, I knew it was the right one, but it didn't make it any easier to live with, knowing what I was setting you up for. I tried to distance myself from you as my friend, to try and see you as a test subject. I never convinced myself fully, but it worked enough to let me get by day to day." His voice became a little less fretful as he went on. "I altered the list of test subjects to make you number one, then I just had to wait until GLaDOS woke you up. Unfortunately, due to the fact that she still had surviving staff members to play with, that took a while."

Chell glanced at him. She'd dedicated a lot of thought to the topic of how long she'd been asleep.

"I only managed to keep track of time because my watch still worked," Doug said with a huff. "Even then, some days blurred into others, but I estimated that it was approximately three years before she woke you."

She took in the news with wide eyes, nodding. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting to hear, but the thought of Doug wandering alone through Aperture for three years sent a pang of sympathy through her.

 _It must have been excruciating_ , she thought.

He looked at her, seemingly curious to see her reaction. At the expression of dismay on her face, he nodded.

"It was tough," he confirmed grimly. "Especially when my meds ran out. The days I spent adjusting were the worst. But then I found the cube. My mind used it as a kind of...failsafe. It helped keep me calm and mostly rational. I painted a lot too. It seemed to help."

Chell nodded, having seen evidence of his painting on more than one occasion.

"I worked my way through as many of the test chambers as I could, looking for places to leave supplies and messages." He gave a small, embarrassed laugh. "I'm...not sure all of the messages made sense. Sometimes my head was...overcrowded."

They were walking close enough together that Chell was able to bump his arm with hers. The little show of support made him smile, however briefly.

"Life was pretty monotonous, to be honest," he told her. "I was running around, keeping myself alive, dodging GLaDOS's taunts. That was more or less it. Until the day she woke you."

Chell sighed, remembering. For her it was less than a week ago, but so much had happened in that short time.

"Once I'd confirmed that you weren't another hallucination, I spent my time running ahead of you, making sure you had water and everything you needed to get through the tests."

She'd been grateful for the water, as GLaDOS hadn't bothered providing her with anything but adrenal vapour. An unpleasant and concerning thought took the edge off her gratitude, however, settling heavily in her stomach. Chamber nineteen had almost ended in her death in the fire pit. Had he known all along that that's what she'd be facing? Was it something he'd had to take into account when making his impossible choice? She eyed him warily as they walked, hoping he'd prove her wrong. Despite her sympathy for the situation he'd been in, the forgiveness she'd already bestowed, she knew she'd find that hard to resign herself to. Fortunately, she didn't have long to wait for answers.

"Chamber nineteen was the only one I'd never been able to gain access to," he admitted, "until the cube suggested taking a back route to the finish line. That was we…I…discovered the incinerator. I…I was terrified. I had no idea that…" He took a breath, swallowing. "No idea that…I'd sent you into that. I couldn't…" He didn't finish the sentence, clearly finding the memory too distressing.

Chell breathed a little easier hearing his confession.

"There was a glass wall there, blocking off the fire," he went on, composure once more intact after a brief pause. "When I realised the panels behind me were portal-compatible, I smashed the glass to give you an exit route. I knew you'd find a way out from there."

She raised her eyebrows as she listened, having been completely ignorant of his involvement in her escape.

 _If he hadn't found that area…_

Doug gave himself a few minutes of breathing space, and they trekked on in silence. As the sun rose higher in the sky, Chell moved to walk on the dry grass at the side of the increasingly-warm road, finding it more comfortable for her bare feet.

"When you made it to chamber nineteen, I watched your escape from the gap in the wall above," Doug said, adjusting the strap of his bag, shifting its weight. "I knew it was risky. I'd kept a safe distance ahead of you before, but I had to know if you were okay."

Chell glanced at him in surprise. She'd never seen him, not once. He must have been extremely good at staying hidden.

"For a while you were really close behind me," he told her with a brief chuckle. "I didn't want to be seen. I was afraid…after what I'd had to do…I wasn't sure you'd want to see me."

Chell shook her head vehemently. She'd have given anything to have a friend at that point. But she'd coped on her own, better than she could have imagined in the end.

"I know that now," he said, smiling gently at her head shake. "I wasn't in my right mind then. To be honest, I'm surprised I'm doing so well _now_. I thought it would take me longer to adjust to being on medication again."

 _It's Aperture-brand medication_ , she thought. _Who knows how it works._

"I'm grateful though," he mused. "I guess."

Chell shot him a quick smile, neatly stepping over a spiky weed in her path.

Doug sighed heavily before continuing his story. "I ran ahead of you for as long as I could, until I reached a point where I couldn't pass without a portal gun. That was...um...right before the turret room. Where you sort of...ranted at me."

Chell bit her lip, cheeks flushing. Her outburst was not one of her finer moments, and she'd been mortified when she'd figured out that it was Doug she'd been shouting at. Still, she'd felt moderately better straight after it, and her constant anger had helped her push onwards.

She shoved back her irritation at not being able to explain, and pasted on her most remorseful expression, hoping it would speak for her.

"It's all right," Doug said, shooting her a sideward glance. "I know you were annoyed, and you didn't know who you were yelling at. Even if you did, I...probably deserved it."

She frowned, but he didn't catch it.

"After you went on, I retreated to one of my safe rooms," he said conversationally. "I spent my time painting as a distraction. I knew you had reached the main chamber at that point, and...I was afraid for you. It wasn't long before I heard the explosions, though. They caused structural damage in that part of the facility."

Surprised, Chell turned to him. She hadn't been aware of that. Truthfully, she hadn't given much thought as to the consequences of her actions when she'd taken GLaDOS down. Later, when she'd seen the dilapidated state of the facility, she'd assumed that it was just a result of the time that had passed.

"I knew what had happened," Doug went on, "and I ran up to the surface. When I got there, I saw you being dragged back into the facility by a party escort bot. I couldn't let you stay there, so I followed. By the time I caught up, you'd already been put in long-term suspension. I couldn't get you out, and then I realised that the cryo-units were offline."

Her eyes widened as she listened. She hadn't known how close she'd been to dying while she'd been unconscious. There was a lot she'd been unaware of, it seemed.

"The only way to save you and the other test subjects was by getting to cryo-control, but it was guarded by turrets. That's when this happened." He patted his bloodstained leg. At Chell's look of alarm, he added, "It's okay, the bullet is out."

She looked at him curiously. _How did he manage to do that? It must have been unbelievably painful._

"When it happened I...passed out for a few seconds. When I woke up, I managed to crawl to the control panel, but there was nothing I could do except patch your grid into the reserve power. I could only save you and the other five test subjects on the same grid." He fell silent for a moment, deep in thought.

 _Yet another terrible choice to make,_ Chell reflected with sympathy.

With a sigh, he carried on. "After that, I was so close to passing out again, I knew I had to find somewhere to rest. I managed to get to a short-term pod...I don't know how..." He trailed off, shrugging. "I guess you do what you have to do in those moments."

Chell nodded her agreement. She knew exactly how it felt to look back and marvel at everything that had been achieved, and wonder just how it had been accomplished at all.

"I woke up completely confused, in a different part of the facility. The pod had healed my leg. Mostly. Later I found out that Wheatley was responsible for waking me up. He came to find me, to make sure that he hadn't accidentally killed me."

Chell gave a small, silent chuckle, completely unsurprised at the core's actions.

"I thought I could trust him," Doug confessed with a weary sigh. "He seemed to want to escape as much as we did."

 _I thought so too,_ Chell reflected bitterly.

"But anyway," he went on. "Together we hatched a plan to escape with you and the only other surviving test subject."

She turned to him in surprise. _There was someone else besides me?_ Wheatley had mentioned the others he'd awoken before he'd reached her, and how they'd all died, but she'd been busy dodging bombs at the time and hadn't had an opportunity to think about it.

"Unfortunately, he didn't make it very far, I'm told. Wheatley agreed to guide you to the breaker room so you could activate an escape elevator." He trailed off, grimacing.

 _Well, we know how_ that _turned out,_ Chell thought.

"In hindsight...I should have just gotten over my fear and taken you myself. But...I was a coward."

Chell shook her head, her frown screaming her disagreement.

"I was," he countered. "I...it's nice of you to say, but...I was. It was easier to let Wheatley do it than face up to the choices I'd made. But that soon backfired, as you know. When GLaDOS became active again, I saw her drop you into the incinerator. I was terrified for you, but I grabbed Wheatley and your discarded portal gun, and I ran."

She glanced at him with wide eyes. _So I was right._ You _fixed Wheatley._

"I fixed up Wheatley," he explained, and Chell hid her smile, amused at the repetition that he was unaware of, "and got him back on the management rail, then we rethought our plan to escape. Wheatley was the one who came up with the idea to shut down the turrets and neurotoxin. I continued leaving you supplies until he broke you out of the test chambers. Then I planted a virus to corrupt GLaDOS's systems, which triggered the core transfer."

Chell found herself surprised yet again at the extent of his involvement behind the scenes. She wondered how far she would have managed to get without him. _Probably not far._

"When...when you and GLaDOS disappeared down the elevator shaft, I was horrified. I...didn't know what to do," he admitted. "It was...I...I couldn't..." He trailed off clumsily.

 _He thought I was dead_ , Chell realised. _He was..._

She pondered how to finish the sentence, trying to imagine how it would feel to watch your best friend get punched down an elevator shaft by a former ally.

 _There aren't words for that much fear and uncertainty._

She reached up and placed a hand on his bony shoulder, smiling in understanding and support.

Doug visibly pulled himself together, standing a little taller. They walked in silence for a while. The sun was steadily climbing as the morning wore on, dancing in and out of wispy clouds, giving them brief respites from its heat. The climate was much more humid than Chell recalled, and she had to pause to shimmy out of the top half of her jumpsuit again. She felt a trickle of sweat roll between her shoulder blades as she tied the sleeves around her waist, and she grimaced.

 _How many layers is that now?_ she inwardly wondered. Hard on its heels came, _Don't think about it, it's gross._

She was vaguely aware, as she was sure Doug was, that they both needed showers. They stank, and the warmth of the sun and the exercise of walking weren't helping the situation.

 _Being out of Aperture certainly has reshuffled my priorities,_ she reflected. _All this time I've longed for freedom and human company, and now I have those, my dearest wish is a shower._

The landscape was different than she remembered, which was disconcerting. There were fewer trees, although they were finding more the further they went, and there was an utter absence of life but for the two of them.

 _We might be the only two people left on Earth..._ she thought, half seriously.

Doug sighed deeply, indicating that he was ready to talk again, and she wondered if he was having similar thoughts that his story was a welcome distraction from.

"I...waited," he began, "for you to give me a sign that you were alive. I don't know exactly how long, but it was hours."

She nodded, drawing his gaze. Awkwardly, she mimed being hit on the head before bringing her hands together in prayer position, resting her cheek on them in a childish imitation of sleep.

"You were knocked out?" he translated. "I thought that might've been the case. One day, if you're up to writing it, I'd be interested to hear what happened down in old Aperture."

She nodded her agreement, frustrated that she couldn't tell him then and there.

"I found your location on a map, and I made my way down to where you'd come out. I...needed to know that you were okay, although I wasn't ready to be seen. Besides, the trip took up some of the waiting time. I'd adapted your old portal gun, so that helped, but it was a long way without elevators. Wheatley was rearranging things all the time, so I had to be on my toes."

Chell nodded. She'd experienced the chaos of that herself.

"Once you were back on the testing track, I mostly focused on staying alive, trying to make my way to the main chamber. Then I saw you by the production line." His tone brightened a touch.

She remembered her surprise at seeing him in the office window, and smiled.

"I followed you across to the main chamber," he went on. "I spoke to GLaDOS briefly before she went up for the core transfer, and I stayed below by the breaker room while you dealt with the stalemate." Catching sight of her wince, he said, "She told me what happened. And then what you did to resolve it all."

Chell stared fixedly at the ground as she walked, trying not to think about the mind-numbing fear of potentially being swept off into space. It was strange, but she felt more afraid in hindsight than she had at the time.

 _No adrenaline_ , she surmised.

Out of the corner of her eye, she was aware of Doug's scrutiny. She met his gaze with a smile that fell a little flat.

"I can't even imagine what that was like," he admitted, his expression indicating that he was sympathetic as to how she was feeling.

She shook her head gently.

"It's okay," he added, "we don't have to talk about it."

Grateful, she listened to him finish his story, not entirely unsurprised to learn that Caroline had not really been deleted. GLaDOS's request to remove her permanently, however, _was_ surprising.

 _She seemed fond of Caroline in the end_ , she reflected. _Right before she let me go._

"I didn't do exactly as she asked," Doug confessed, drawing a raised eyebrow from Chell. "I managed to repress her memories of her later years. I thought...maybe that way she'd still have some kind of conscience."

She hoped he was right, for the sake of the next human who stumbled across Aperture. Caroline as Chell had known her hadn't been sugar and spice, but she'd been human, and maybe that would be enough.

"Either way," Doug said seriously, "I think we should get as far away as possible. Out of Michigan. Maybe even out of the U.S."

Chell thought maybe that was an overreaction, but she found herself nodding in agreement. She wondered how far she'd need to go to get peace of mind. Europe? Africa?

"We chatted a little as I worked," Doug spoke up. "When I talked about my schizophrenia, it...I think it sparked some empathy. That was when she found the medication I used to take and gave me the whole supply."

Chell was a little surprised to hear that, but not as much as she might have been once. If there was one thing that carrying the potato around had taught her, it was that GLaDOS was a lot more complex than she'd initially given her credit for.

"Anyway," said Doug, "I finished the programming, she let me go, and here we are."

She turned to smile at him, more grateful than she could find words for. Against all the odds, they were both on the surface.

Doug returned the smile, then his eyes widened in realisation. "Oh, I almost forgot. She wanted me to tell you something."

Chell's brow furrowed, but she was intrigued.

"She said that you won't get sick. She said you might be concerned about things you came into contact with in old Aperture."

She nodded, recalling Cave Johnson's moon rock-induced fate.

"I asked her how she knew for sure," he continued, answering Chell's next question. "She just said...she was sure. She sounded pretty confident. I thought maybe there was more to it that I was missing."

Chell shrugged, unsure what it meant. _Unless..._ she thought suddenly, _Cave Johnson didn't die from lunar poison. Is that even possible? No one else got sick..._ She let out a silent gasp. _Did Caroline...kill Cave Johnson? Why?_ It was a question she doubted she'd ever have the answer to.

Doug studied her expression thoughtfully. "Have you figured it out?"

"Maybe," she mouthed. _But I don't understand it._

There was nothing more to say on the subject while Chell was unable to explain, so they walked on in companionable silence. Without the distraction of listening to Doug's story, she felt the pain from her injuries all the more, eventually feeling her pace slowing until she had to call a halt.

Doug consulted his watch, then frowned, squinting, at the sky. "Oh," he said eventually, the word sounding dry and mildly aggravated.

Chell tilted her head in question from her seat on the grass.

"It's wrong," he reported, holding up the wrist wearing the watch.

She nodded solemnly, then unexpectedly burst into silent giggles at the sight of his irritated expression. It felt good to laugh again, but her wound protested and she made herself stop.

Doug was smiling at her amusement, but it faltered when she winced. "Are you okay?" he asked, resting his bag on the ground and sitting next to it. "Does the dressing need changing?"

Chell shrugged. _Probably._

"Do you have supplies?"

She shook her head, but then remembered the roll of gauze she'd been carrying around since finding it in the mural room. She tugged it out of her pocket and held it up with a triumphant smile.

 _Go forethought_ , she reflected wryly, folding the bottom halves of her two vest tops up over her chest to expose the bandage. Looking down to try and see what she was doing, Chell immediately realised that the angle was completely wrong for her to adequately do it on her own.

"Help," she mouthed, looking up at Doug.

He shifted over, glancing at her in question. "Can't you see?"

 _My boobs are in the way_ , she thought, amused, settling for a simple head shake for Doug's benefit. The thought of trying to sign the rest made her want to laugh again.

With care, he picked at the knot in the bandage until it loosened. Chell helped him unwind it, holding the dressing pad in place until Doug was able to gently remove it. The fresh air was pleasant on her skin, but Doug's grimace worried her.

"Sorry," he said at once, when he saw that she'd noticed his reaction. "It's not that bad, it just looks painful."

 _It is_ , she answered him silently.

"The stitches are neat," he told her, "no sign of infection. Do you have another dressing pad?"

She shook her head, frowning.

"Okay. We'll have to use the other side of this one. It looks pretty clean. She did a good job of patching you up."

 _Surprisingly good. I hope she didn't bury any tracking devices in there._ The thought was a pessimistic one that she didn't really take seriously, but she knew the faint element of doubt would only be erased by time.

She held the dressing over the wound while Doug wrapped the new roll of gauze around her waist. He took care not to touch her skin, she noticed, although whether it was due to hygiene or awkwardness, she couldn't tell.

She thanked him with a nod when he was done, and he scooted back to his bag, his untidy hair hiding his face from view. Chell rearranged her tops again, then studied the healing burns on her right arm. They itched, which she thought was a good thing. There was nothing more she could do for them. Cautiously twisting to look at the dressing on the back of her shoulder, she figured it probably needed changing too, but she was officially out of medical supplies. It would have to wait. For the moment, she was happy just to rest.


	26. The Missing Years

**Unknown year.  
The Missing Years.**

As Chell sat and rested on the grass by the side of the road, Doug was rifling through the small collection of stuff that he was carrying around with the cube. Eventually he turned, looking apologetic.

"I'm sorry, it looks like we're out of food."

Chell smiled at him reassuringly, trying to express that it was all right. She'd gotten used to the gnawing, empty feeling in her stomach while she'd been in old Aperture. She could manage for a few more days if she had to. It was Doug she was concerned about. He was painfully thin.

"It might be okay though," he added, handing her a bottle of water. "There are power lines up ahead. If we follow them, they should lead us straight to North Lake."

Chell took a swig and passed the bottle back, nodding in acknowledgement of his words. They weren't far from Ishpeming. A few hours, she estimated, if they kept up their current pace. She wondered if the tiny house she'd once shared with her college friend, Emma, was still intact. After the state Aperture's main reception had been in, she was dreading what they might find. Judging by the grim expression on Doug's face, he was too.

"You used to live in West Ishpeming, didn't you?" he asked, dropping the bottle back in beside the cube. After she nodded, he said, "I had a place in the main town, not far from Lake Bancroft."

Chell vaguely recalled him telling her that years ago, when they'd first reconnected. She also remembered that his parents and sister lived in the city of Wyoming, although she knew there was no chance of them getting _there_ any time soon unless they found a vehicle. She wasn't sure how to convey the thought to him, and she sighed heavily in frustration.

Doug glanced up at the noise, studying her expression pensively. Then his face brightened a touch, and he dove back into the bag, eventually emerging with a tatty-looking folder that she recognised from the file room.

"Do you still have that pen you wrote on the wall with?" he asked.

 _So he did find that message_ , she thought idly. Then she realised what he was getting at, and she tugged the pen out of her pocket, reaching for the file with eager hands.

'Thank you,' she wrote hastily. 'You have no idea how frustrating this is.'

Doug moved to sit beside her, to better read her writing.

"I do," he countered, looking up to meet her gaze. "I can see it in your face."

She sent him a smile that was half gratitude, half sympathy.

'I was worried that things would be different,' she scribbled, 'seeing as it's been more time for you than it has for me.'

Doug read it and nodded, his expression suddenly a little guarded. He opened his mouth to speak, then changed his mind.

Chell watched him quizzically, afraid that she'd read things wrong, and things had changed more than she'd thought.

A multitude of emotions crossed his face, too fast to read. Then he settled on a simple, earnest look.

"Things _are_ different," he said, "but the things that matter…I know you won't abandon me, and I'll never abandon you. It's just like it was in Aperture: we have each other's backs."

Although she agreed with his words, Chell found herself frowning at the starkness of the sentiment. _Did I…_ imagine _the strength of our friendship?_ The thought sent a wave of panic through her. She'd lost everyone else, even Wheatley. She couldn't face losing Doug too. While they'd been dealing with things in Aperture, they had been a partnership, united in a common goal. But now that they were out, she needed more than that: she needed her friend back.

 _You're overreacting_ , she scolded herself.

Doug studied her expression, and his own softened. "I missed you," he said, sounding a touch self-conscious.

Chell smiled in relief, writing, 'I missed you too.' She breathed a little easier with that out in the open. She was surprised at herself for needing such barefaced reassurance, but she put it down to a side effect of GLaDOS's constant derision.

Remembering why she'd needed writing paper in the first place, she added, 'Do you want to try and get to Wyoming?'

Doug tilted his head, reading. "If I can," he said, his concern for his family leaking into his words. "I mean...if it's...if there's any possibility that they're..."

 _Still alive_ , she finished for him. She nodded, writing, 'I'll come with you.' She thought it was a given, but she wanted it said anyway.

He sent her a strained smile. "Thank you." After a moment, he asked, "Are you ready to move on?"

Chell nodded, accepting his hand as she got carefully to her feet. Pocketing the pen once more, she tucked the file under her arm for future use.

They headed for the power lines in the distance, leaving the road for the overgrown grass that ran beneath them. The lines were clearly long out of use, many of them broken, hanging down in vine-like tendrils, some lost amongst the weeds as they draped down from dilapidated pylons. Chell knew that reaching North Lake would give them an indication of what they could expect in Ishpeming, but she had a strong suspicion that the state of the power lines was clue enough. Doug wore a concerned look too, his weary frown making him seem older than his thirty-two years.

 _No_ , she corrected inwardly, _it's thirty-five now._ It was a strange thought. _Am I even twenty-four anymore?_ she wondered. _Or am I technically forty or fifty something? Or more?_ That thought was even stranger, and she turned her attention to other things.

After an hour or so, they walked into North Lake and halted. The small collection of streets and buildings, a separate community in Ishpeming Township, were mostly rubble. Grass and weeds had taken over the roads and houses. There was nothing left, no signs of humanity at all. Chell thought that that was probably a good thing, as the absence of cars hopefully meant that the residents had escaped whatever had happened. She didn't think that it was simply time that had caused the damage. GLaDOS had vaguely implied that something major had occurred.

" _Things have changed since the last time you left the building. What's going on out there will make you wish you were back in here. I have an infinite capacity for knowledge, and even I'm not sure what's going on outside."_

It was unsettling to see a familiar place reduced to a ghost town. For a long moment, all Chell could do was stare, feeling strangely numb.

"My god," Doug muttered beside her.

She reached for her pen, scribbling on the back of the file. 'Is it worth looking around for supplies?'

"We can try, but everything looks…overgrown."

They explored where they could, but avoided the most unstable-looking structures. They found nothing of value though, soon deciding to continue on to West Ishpeming. It was in a similar state, picked bare of anything useful, empty and silent. But unlike North Lake, there were signs of life, faint sounds on the wind.

"Do you hear that?" Doug asked guardedly.

She nodded, knowing that he was used to hearing things that others couldn't.

"Is that…in the main part of town?"

Guessing that it was, she nodded a second time. Lifting the folder, she wrote, 'I know what I'm going to find, but can we just take a look at my house before we move on?'

"Of course. I'd like to do the same."

The edgy feeling of dread in her stomach turned out to be justified. The house was gone, reduced to a pile of rubble with a single standing wall. Chell recognised the horrible shade of yellow that Emma had painted the kitchen in, although it was faded and dirty. Anything of hers that might have remained in the house was likely stolen or crushed.

 _So I have lost everything then_ , she thought, feeling her throat tighten painfully. Everything else had simply been snatched away without a trace, but the remains of the house served as a visual representation of it all, and it was that, strangely enough, that suddenly brought all her repressed grief to the surface.

Covering her mouth with her hand, she silently sobbed, sinking to her knees and hunching over protectively. She cried so hard she could scarcely breathe, one hand bracing herself on the overgrown grass.

 _My home is gone. Dad is dead. My friends are dead. Wheatley is in space. My future is…uncertain. …Dad is dead._ One by one, the thoughts shot through her head, each drawing more tears from her increasingly-sore eyes. At the back of her mind, she knew it was a good thing. Expelling her sorrow was a step on the way to healing. But she hated the feeling of raw anguish that suddenly swamped her.

She felt Doug's arm across her back as he knelt beside her, gripping her shoulders. He didn't say a word, simply reminded her that she was not alone. Comforting phrases would have seemed hollow, so she appreciated the silent consolation more than he probably realised. It did, however, just make her cry harder. If she could have screamed, she suspected she would be.

Injury finally protesting to her crouched position, Chell shifted to sit on the grass, her legs tucked up beside her. Doug moved with her, the motion placing him behind her. He held her back against his chest, one arm awkwardly around her, the other gripping her shoulder. With shaking hands, she clutched his arm where it rested just below her chin, holding on for dear life as her tears dampened his sleeve.

She wasn't sure how long they sat like that, silent in front of the ruins of the house. Waiting for the storm of grief to pass made the minutes and hours blur together. Eventually, though, her tears dried, her trembling subsided, and she breathed easier. The deep ache that remained in her heart would only be eased by time, she knew. Although she felt tired and drained, she was glad too. The absence of mourning had been starting to worry her, as she'd been fully aware that it wasn't normal to carry on in the way she had. Still, in a way, it had helped her cope, just as the outburst would now. She felt shaky but peaceful, and she knew she would be okay.

Doug picked up on her stillness, the hand of the arm that was around her squeezing her shoulder gently, the other comfortingly rubbing her upper arm. She was still gripping his forearm, and she retaliated in kind, indicating that she was thankful for his support.

"Are you all right?" he asked quietly.

Chell nodded, drawing in a cleansing breath. She had kept the old bandage that she'd changed earlier, not wanting to leave it lying around the countryside. As Doug let her go, she fished it out of her pocket, using it to wipe her nose. She'd never been a dignified crier. She kept her face turned away until she'd cleaned up a bit, a little embarrassed, though she wasn't sure why. When she eventually turned to send him a grateful smile, he was studying her with concerned eyes.

"If you're about to apologise, don't," he told her, gentle but firm. "There's no need. God, the amount of times I went through the same thing while you were in stasis… I've never been as strong as you."

She frowned, disagreeing. There were different types of strength. His was a quieter, more passive kind.

"Do you want to rest here a while?"

Chell shook her head. Reaching for the file, she wrote, 'No, let's move on. There's nothing here but relics of the past.'

"Okay."

They got to their feet. As they walked away, towards the main town, neither looked back, and Chell felt her control slip back into place. It took them a little while to get within sight of the main town, as they had to take a meandering path around wreckage, but as soon as they did, something became abundantly clear.

 _There are people!_ Chell thought in shock, gripping Doug's sleeve.

They both stopped, watching the distant figures walking around. Then Doug turned to her.

"We shouldn't mention where we've been," he said earnestly. "If someone takes an interest and decides to go exploring…"

He left the sentence hanging, but Chell knew exactly what he meant. The last thing she wanted to do was provide GLaDOS with more test subjects.

She nodded, slipping off her Aperture vest and stuffing it into her pocket. The blue top she had on underneath was bloodstained, but it would have to do.

"I have no idea how convincing we'll be, but we need to try at least," he added.

Chell nodded again. Then something occurred to her, and she caught his sleeve a second time. He glanced at her enquiringly.

'We have no money,' she scribbled on the file.

Doug read it, his brow creasing in concern. "We'll just have to deal with that as we go."

 _Hopefully we look pathetic enough that they'll cut us some slack_ , Chell mused. She hadn't seen her reflection in some time, but she'd deduced all she needed to know from Doug's expression when he'd first seen her in the wheat field.

She tucked the file back into Doug's bag, pocketing her pen. Cautiously, they walked into town, keeping pace with each other, showing a united front. She glanced around at the roads she had once known so well, more recognisable than the streets of West Ishpeming and North Lake. As they got closer, Chell saw that the damage was not as severe as North Lake had been. Many of the buildings were wrecked, but a lot had been repaired, leaving a town of patchwork houses. The streets were in a terrible state, but there were no weeds, and the gardens of the houses seemed to be well cared for. There were quite a few people about, all of whom stopped what they were doing to stare at them as they approached. Chell couldn't blame them. It must be odd to see a bedraggled scientist carrying a cube on his back, accompanied by a barefoot, cut-ridden convict. (Or so she imagined she looked. She was on edge, waiting for someone to incorrectly identify her jumpsuit as a prison uniform.)

Doug's posture stiffened, and she heard him inhale a deep breath. When she cast a glance his way, she saw that his knuckles were white as he clutched at the bag strap across his chest. His eyes darted around, skipping from person to person, and she suddenly understood. He'd been alone for three years with only the cube for company. Being amongst people again, even a relatively small crowd, was setting him on edge. Before she had time to offer comfort or reassurance, she saw him tense up further, and she turned her attention to the two men walking towards them. One had been chopping wood, and still carried his axe. The other was armed with a shotgun. They both looked to be in their forties, the one with the gun mousy-haired, wearing a pair of square-lensed glasses, the other dark with a generous growth of stubble on his chin.

"Good afternoon," Doug greeted them warily, his voice sounding more confident than Chell would have expected given his state of disquiet.

"Afternoon," the man with the gun replied, suspicion plain to hear in his tone. "Just passing through, folks?"

"We're just glad to find someone," Doug told him, slipping a strand of desperation into the words. His fear leant itself to it rather well. "We were in an accident several miles back. We've been walking for days."

"Where are you headed?" the man with the axe asked.

"Wyoming," Doug answered. "The city not the state. Eventually."

The man whistled. "That's a hike."

Chell could literally sense Doug biting down his irritation.

"Yes, we know. Like I said, we were in an accident."

The two men exchanged a glance, evidently deciding whether they believed the story. The mousy-haired shotgun-wielder eyed Chell's bloodstained top, red-rimmed eyes and bandaged arm, then turned his gaze to Doug's wounded leg and general scruffiness. Chell thought their appearance probably spoke for itself.

It seemed the man thought so too. He inhaled noisily through his nose, then shrugged. "I think they're legit," he declared. "Stand down."

Chell peered over her shoulder just in time to see a younger man and a woman back away, lowering makeshift weapons of their own. The man sent her a wink, then a smile that was so bright it was almost alarming. Startled, she looked away.

"I'm Trevor Day," the man with the shotgun introduced. Gesturing to his companion with the axe, he added, "This is my husband, Gerry."

"Hi," said Gerry, resting the axe on his shoulder.

Doug gestured with a faintly trembling hand. "I'm Doug, and this is Chell."

Chell smiled tightly at the two, but she still eyed the gun circumspectly.

"Sorry to greet you like this," Trevor said apologetically, lowering the barrel. "We still get looters around here sometimes."

"That's okay," Doug told him politely, although Chell doubted his sincerity. It was unsettling to have a shotgun pointed at you.

"You look like you could use some rest," spoke up the younger man, moving around into their line of sight. He was strikingly handsome, almost unnervingly so, and he seemed to know it, judging by his confident demeanour and the 'casual' way he kept flicking his hair out of his eyes. No doubt he thought he looked cool, but Chell was just reminded of a horse trying to banish a fly.

They both nodded, Doug adding, "If we could get something to drink and maybe some food, that would be very welcome."

"Think we can manage that," Trevor said with a quick smile. "Follow me, we'll get you both a glass of water."

"Your feet look sore," the younger man said to Chell. "Want some help?"

She shook her head firmly, annoyed by the attention. She understood that she and Doug were a novelty, being strangers in the community, but she didn't like being fussed over.

"Careful," Doug cut in, "she's injured."

"Can't she speak for herself, Pops?" the woman behind them snapped.

Chell shot her a glance, instantly disliking her. Judging by their similar pretty features, blue eyes and golden hair, she guessed that the woman was the younger man's sister. They were both older than Chell, but there was something almost immature in their conduct. She met the girl's gaze and shook her head a second time.

"No, she can't," Doug replied evenly. "She's mute."

The girl's eyes widened. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry," she gushed, sounding genuine. "I didn't mean anything by it."

Chell waved off her concern, indicating that it was okay.

"Smooth, Trish," the blond man teased.

"Shut up."

As they walked, Doug murmured, "Pops? Really?"

Chell sent him an impish smile, gesturing to her chin as she mouthed, "It's the beard."

He narrowed his eyes at her, and she silently laughed. After all the weeping, it felt good.

"I meant it, though," the blond man said to her, unknowingly interrupting, "if you need any help, let me know. I'm Brad, by the way."

She smiled as graciously as she could manage, trying to slip an air of dismissal into it. It seemed to work to an extent, as he dropped back into step with the girl, Trish, but Chell imagined that she could feel his gaze, which made her feel uncomfortable. Decisively, she reached for Doug's hand, slipping her fingers through his. He still harboured a nervous tremble, and she rubbed her thumb across his skin in what she hoped was a soothing gesture.

He sent her a curious glance, his surprise thankfully hidden from the two walking behind them. Chell indicated Brad with a quick shift of her gaze. Doug gave the tiniest of nods and tightened his grip on her hand, which made her smile. His fingers were warm and calloused, and felt somehow familiar, although they'd never held hands before. She'd _watched_ his often enough, fascinated by his drawing process and the way his dextrous fingers seemed to effortlessly create life on the page. But holding hands was a new experience for both of them, one that was comforting in the strange world they found themselves in.

Trevor led them to a small house not far away, obviously his and Gerry's, as he walked right in without knocking. It was one of the more intact houses around, sporting a few different roof tiles, and wooden slats in multiple colours on its front wall.

Gerry had gone back to his wood cutting, but Brad and Trish followed them inside. They passed through a door leading off the hallway, entering a small dining room. The table took up most of the space, surrounded by a random selection of mismatched chairs. Trevor gestured for them all to sit down, then disappeared through to what was presumably the kitchen.

Chell let go of Doug's hand as she pulled out her chair, feeling a strange sense of loss that she didn't care to dwell on. The silence was awkward and heavy, broken only by Trevor rattling around in the adjacent room. Eventually he emerged, carrying a tray loaded with glasses and a pitcher. When she had her glass, Chell had to persuade herself not to gulp down the water, knowing it wouldn't do her body any favours. Instead, she took slow, measured sips, soothing her parched throat.

"I'm heating up some leftover soup," Trevor told them as he took his seat. "Will that do you until dinner?"

"That would be perfect, thank you," Doug said with a smile.

Trevor gave a nod, then fixed them both with a level stare. "So, where did you two have your accident?"

"I...don't know exactly where we were," Doug answered him, frowning. "Somewhere out in the middle of nowhere. West of here, I think."

Chell obligingly nodded.

"It _was_ west?" Doug asked her.

She nodded again. If he needed to lie through his teeth, she might as well help where she could.

"I don't remember much," he told the others. "I hit my head pretty hard. Truth be told, I'm...not even sure what year it is."

Brad gave a short bark of laughter, and Chell braced herself to keep her reaction hidden, no matter what date came out of his mouth.

"2035," the young man said with amusement. "July 12th, to be exact."

Chell took another sip of water, trying to control her expression. _Twenty-eight years_ , she thought. _I've been the same age for twenty-eight years_. Pushing her feelings aside, she forced herself to shoot Doug a 'told you so' look.

He blinked a few times, then met her gaze. " _That's_ what you were trying to sign to me," he said, only the faintest tremor audible in his voice.

She sent him a nod and a shrug, unable to show the sympathy she was feeling, aware that he was probably thinking of his family.

Doug turned his attention to their three companions. "Um...I know this is going to sound...odd, but...what happened here?"

They stared at him for a long, uncomfortable moment. Then Trish leaned forward a little. "Are you serious?"

"I honestly don't remember a thing," Doug insisted, "and Chell was having a really hard time trying to explain it to me in gestures..."

"Don't you know sign language?" Trevor asked her.

She shook her head truthfully.

"Her condition is a fairly recent thing," Doug explained. "We're hopeful that it will reverse itself."

Chell pulled a sceptical face. She was reserving judgement on that particular hope.

Trevor let out a deep sigh, leaning back in his chair. "What exactly do you not remember?" he asked, pausing to frown once the sentence was spoken. "If that even makes sense," he added. "You know what I mean."

Doug gave a brief chuckle. "I get it. Um...I know things have been this way for years, but I just...can't remember _why_."

Trevor looked suddenly weary, but he nodded. "Okay. Let me go sort the food, then we'll go through it."

"Thank you."

A short time later, while Chell and Doug wolfed down vegetable soup and bread rolls with as much dignity as they could manage, Trevor gave them a history lesson. He did so cautiously, his tone of voice indicating to Chell that he was not wholly convinced by their story, but he explained things anyway, for which she was grateful. They needed to know what they'd missed, what kind of world they had escaped to.

"It started in 2009 at the Black Mesa Research Facility," Trevor began.

Doug glanced up with wide eyes, and Chell remembered that he could have ended up working at Black Mesa had his interview gone smoother. Every Aperture employee was familiar with their name. The two companies had been bitter rivals since the 1950s.

"I don't know exactly what happened," Trevor went on. "I don't understand any of that science stuff, and I was only nineteen when it all went down, but something they were experimenting on went drastically wrong and it caused a...a...damn it, what's it called?"

"Something cascade," put in Trish with a shrug.

"A resonance cascade?" Doug asked, lowering his spoon. His voice was a concerning mixture of awe and horror. "My god..."

"You remember that?" Brad wanted to know.

"No...I mean, I don't think so. I just know about the theory. Never thought I'd ever hear about it actually happening." He halted, seemingly aware that his reaction was unusual.

Chell saw Trevor flick his gaze to Doug's lab coat, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. The coat was ragged at the edges, stained with dirt, paint and blood, but it was unmistakeable what it represented.

"Yeah, well, whatever it is, it messed up big time," Brad said expressively.

"How?"

Trevor pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "These...rips opened up in the sky. Portals through to another universe."

Chell glanced at Doug, wondering if Black Mesa had been developing their own portal technology to counter Aperture's. He didn't look as if he had the answers.

"Things started to come through," Trevor continued. "Alien creatures."

 _And I thought shooting a portal on the moon was a big deal_ , Chell thought.

"Caused a big stir at Black Mesa. I heard the military had to get involved. They tried to hush it up, but the problem got too big. The Combine came through."

There was something in the way he said the name that sent a chill down Chell's spine. She broke a piece off her bread roll and chewed it pensively as she listened.

"Are you sure you don't remember any of this?" Trevor asked with a frown.

Doug shook his head, but said nothing.

"Hm. Well, the arrival of the Combine was when everything changed. They touched down at locations all over the planet, wiped out our forces and a huge percentage of the population in just seven hours. They call it the Seven Hour War. As you can see, we're still recovering from it. It was over twenty years ago, but we just don't have the resources to fix everything the way it was." He sighed deeply, folding his arms and leaning on the table. "The big cities are doing better. I heard Washington and New York are looking pretty good these days. But nobody cares about us all the way out here. It took us five years to get electricity and running water."

Chell bit her tongue, using the sting of it to distract herself from her horrified reaction. She'd never have imagined that Aperture could be a source of positivity, but she felt strangely grateful for the protection it had given Doug and herself.

Trevor cleared his throat and continued. "Um...Chell? Could I ask you something?"

Startled, she warily nodded.

"How old are you?"

The question was so out of the blue that she simply stared at him for a long moment.

"You can't ask a lady her age, Trevor," Trish interjected. "You'd know that if you weren't married to a guy."

Chell gestured to indicate that it was okay. She pulled out her pen and wrote her age on the back of her hand.

"Twenty-four?" said Brad with a frown. "But–"

"Hold up," Trevor interrupted, "who's telling this story?"

"But–"

"Brad, I will _get_ to that."

Giving up, Brad huffed and sat back in his seat, eyeing Chell with a look of suspicion that she couldn't interpret. She ignored him and finished up her bread roll.

"So," Trevor went on, "you're probably aware of the rest, aren't you?"

The way he looked at them both put Chell on edge. It was a loaded question to say the least.

"Uh..." Doug began, tensing.

"Your bump on the head didn't make you forget the _entire_ last twenty-six years, did it?"

"Well...no, not all of it."

"So you remember that humanity lived under Combine rule for nineteen years until the resistance movement kicked them out?" Trevor asked casually. Too casually.

Chell gave a soft sigh, realising that they were caught out. Glancing at Doug, she saw his expression lose its touch of confusion as he dropped his act.

Trevor's gaze switched between the two of them. "See, this is the bit that puzzles me. When the Combine took over in 2009 they installed a reproduction suppression field. It prevented anyone from having children, no exceptions. The resistance only managed to knock it out six years ago. So when you claim that Chell is twenty-four... I'm not the smartest at math, but even I can see that that doesn't add up."

Doug nodded in acceptance, and Chell wondered what he would say instead of their story.

"I want the truth," Trevor said, his tone obstinate. "Or I'm gonna have to assume that you're here to scam us."

Chell fixed Doug with a cautionary gaze, although she suspected it was unnecessary. He was the most over-cautious person she knew.

"Okay," he muttered softly in defeat. "Yes, we lied, because the truth is hard to believe."

"Did you miss the part where Earth got invaded by aliens?" Brad asked sarcastically.

Doug shot him a sharp glare. "Even so." He fell silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "You must have heard of Black Mesa's main rival, Aperture Laboratories."

"They've been off the radar for years," Trevor said, scepticism written all over his face.

"Yes," Doug agreed, "because in 2007 Aperture had a major incident of their own. The difference was that theirs was internal. The facility went into lockdown. That's...where we've been. We only escaped yesterday, after fighting for our lives. Most of the time we spent there, we were in cryogenic stasis, which is why we haven't aged."

Brad scoffed. "That's the best you could come up with?"

"Not enough aliens for you?" Doug fired back calmly.

Brad blushed sheepishly, and Chell looked down at her lap to try and hide her smirk.

"I'm an open-minded guy," said Trevor pensively, "but unless you have proof..."

Doug tugged his I.D. card from his lab coat pocket and slid it across the table. Trevor picked it up and examined it.

"The issue date is underneath my picture," Doug told him.

Chell knew he'd had his card renewed in 2006, so the picture wasn't too old. If Trevor could see past Doug's current wild appearance, the card was all the proof they needed. She couldn't see that being a problem though. His mismatched eyes were quite unique.

"Well I'll be damned," Trevor murmured.

"Can I see?" asked Trish, stretching her hand out. Trevor passed her the card, and she and Brad pored over it. "Oh my god," she exclaimed, at the same time as Brad sat back and frowned.

"Okay," Trevor spoke up, "I'll admit, I understand why you lied."

"It wasn't just because of how crazy it sounds," Doug said gravely. "We didn't want to risk anyone going back there. The situation we escaped is…still ongoing."

"Is it dangerous?" asked Brad.

"Yes," Doug answered, as Chell gave a firm nod.

The younger man shrugged. "Well, wouldn't it be best to go kill this thing – whatever it is – before it gets out?"

"No," said Doug and Chell together, although hers was just mouthed.

"It can't get out," Doug went on, "but if anyone goes _in_ , I guarantee that they won't come back."

"You did," Trish pointed out.

"Eventually, but it took us _years_ , and that was only because we were employees and we knew the building."

To Chell's relief, Brad and Trish started to look doubtful.

"Can you promise me that whatever it is can't get out?" said Trevor, fixing Doug with a steely gaze, his hazel eyes lit with a spark of fire. "The truth now. I'm willing to try and uproot the entire town and move based on what you say."

"Trev!" Trish exclaimed.

"I mean it, Trish, I'll go to the mayor with this right now. I'm not going to lose anyone else. The war was enough. You were too young to understand what it was like."

"I… _want_ to be able to promise you that," Doug told him with sincerity, "but the truth is…there's no way to promise _anything_ when it comes to that place. I'd say it's unlikely, but…I'm sorry, I just don't know for sure."

Chell understood his hesitation. _GLaDOS can't leave, and she doesn't know this town is here, but what's to stop her sending out a scout?_

He looked frustrated at not being able to give a straight answer, and she placed a hand on his arm in support. He turned to her, his expression softening a little when he realised she understood.

"I don't know what else to say," he murmured jadedly, giving a tiny shrug.

 _I know_ , she answered silently. _You've told him the truth, that will have to do._

"What would you do in my situation?" Trevor asked.

 _Run_ , Chell thought instantly. She blinked, slightly taken aback by the speed and certainty of the reaction.

"What would I do?" Doug repeated, then he gave a small, humourless laugh. "You're asking the wrong person, but…I'd think about getting further away from here…just in case. But that's just me. I'm paranoid."

He said it casually, but the fact that it was medically true did not lessen the sense in his words, in Chell's opinion. But then, her experiences had made her a little paranoid too.

Trevor looked troubled, but Brad shrugged dismissively. "Trev, we've been fine up til now."

"Yes, but most of that time Aperture has been dormant," Trevor pointed out. "You're living with the consequences of people trusting Black Mesa too much. Do you really want to make the same mistake with Aperture?"

"Well…"

"I'll think on it," Trevor said to Doug, "Although, obviously I can't force people to go if they'd rather stay."

Doug nodded empathetically. Outside, the sun was setting, bathing the room in dusky pink.

"You two are welcome to stay the night if you don't mind camping in the lounge," Trevor offered. "You'd best toss a coin for who gets the couch, though."

"Thank you," Doug replied. "You've been very kind."

"No problem. You look like you've seen some rough times."

Chell nodded pensively.

"We were hoping to pick up some supplies for our journey," Doug spoke up. "We really are trying to get to Wyoming, by the way. We need food and water, medical supplies, and fresh clothes, if possible, but we don't have any money. Is there a way we could trade for goods? I can do work to pay for them if necessary, but not Chell."

She turned to send him an indignant look.

"I mean it," he told her firmly. "You're injured, you need rest."

"But–" she mouthed.

"Chell, for once in your life _stop_ being so stubborn," he interrupted, sounding resolute but a touch amused. "What would you do if you pulled one of your stitches out?"

Reluctantly, she had to admit that he had a point. But sitting and doing nothing was not her idea of fun, however necessary it was.

He was still holding her gaze, almost challengingly, and she sighed, mouthing, "Fine."

"Thank you."

"We're limited on medical supplies," Trevor said, "but we'll do what we can. I'm guessing you'll want to bathe as well."

"That would be great," Doug answered emphatically. "What can I do in return?"

"You any good with generators?"

"I don't know. What's the problem?"

"It cuts out, sometimes for whole hours. It's damned annoying."

Doug rubbed his chin in thought. "I can take a look, at least. I might be able to help."

"I'd appreciate that. Have to wait until we have the light back, though. Sun's too low now."

Trish sat up in her seat. "If you two write down your sizes, Brad and I will find you some clothes from the store room."

Chell noticed that Brad did not seem particularly pleased about being volunteered. She tried not to smile. They wrote down the information and the siblings left, promising to be back soon.

"I have a little more story to tell," Trevor said, "but it can wait until dinner. Why don't you two go get settled?"

After helping him clear up the dishes, they took him up on his offer.

* * *

 **A/N:** Apologies for any potential butchering of Half-life lore. It's been a long time since I played those games.


	27. Preparations

**A/N:** Do I get an award for most boring title ever? Because I feel that I should.

* * *

 **2035.  
Preparations.**

The water was not hot, but Chell had never been so pleased to step into a bathtub in her life. It was not the most relaxing bath, as she was limited on the amount of water she could use while her stitches were still in place. Still, it was lukewarm and she had soap, which was all she needed. Trish had to come in and help her wash her hair, which was an arrangement Chell didn't much like, but the blonde woman seemed just as awkward, which strangely made the whole thing _less_ awkward. They had to rinse both Chell and the tub several times, as she had left an unpleasant residue of dirt and Aperture gels. Trish seemed bemused and disgusted, but she never complained, for which Chell was grateful.

As she was carefully stepping out, she caught Trish's gaze flicking from wound to wound, her face betraying equal parts curiosity and sympathy. With a grimace, she turned away, helping Chell wrap a towel around herself.

"Can you get dressed on your own? I brought you some stuff to wear."

Chell nodded, sending her an appreciative smile. Once alone, she carefully pulled on the underwear and socks that Trish had brought, (thankful that they were old shop stock and not second-hand), and a faded pair of jeans. With a knock on the door, Trevor came in to help her with her more serious injuries, handing her a glass of water so she could take the painkillers he'd found. When they were clean and redressed with fresh bandages, he left her alone so she could finish up. With care, she slipped on the vest top and flannel shirt, taking time to appreciate the feeling of clean fabric against her skin. For her blistered feet, there was nothing to do but wait for them to heal. Trish had found her a sturdy pair of worn-in hiking books, which would prevent any further annoyances. Chell was more pleased to see those than any of the other items she'd been given.

When she was dressed, her wet hair hanging loose around her shoulders, she headed downstairs, aware that Doug was patiently waiting for the bathroom.

"Feel better?" he asked her when she entered the lounge.

She nodded, smiling, jerking her thumb in the direction of the stairs to indicate that he could go up.

She enjoyed a moment to herself while he was gone. Solitude had been hard to cope with in Aperture, but she had forgotten how tedious other people could be. Trevor, Trish and Brad had been hospitable and bearable so far, but the effort of making herself understood was draining. It was easier with Doug, as he had grown familiar with her facial expressions over the years of their friendship, but even still it was nice for her to simply sit and relax for a while. She had the room to herself, but she could hear Trevor talking quietly with Gerry in the kitchen, which let her know that she was not completely alone. All in all, it was a good balance.

Eventually, she ventured out to see if she could help with anything, feeling guilty that they were doing it all themselves. Gerry assigned her to vegetable-chopping duty, which she took up gladly. When Doug came downstairs, looking clean and fresh, dressed in jeans and a blue button-up shirt, they all sat around the table in the dining room. Brad and Trish had left while she'd been dressing, so it was just the four of them sitting down to roast chicken and steamed vegetables. Chell had gathered from Trevor and Gerry's talk that they were largely self-sufficient in Ishpeming, which didn't seem surprising after hearing about the Combine occupation.

Doug thanked their hosts for their kindness once more. Chell smiled for her contribution to the conversation. Ironically, she thought they'd probably have a harder time gaining people's trust in the next town they came to, as she was sure their bedraggled, bloody state had been the main reason why the two men had been so hospitable.

Once they had all finished their meal, Trevor continued the story he'd begun earlier. "I told you the Combine ruled for nineteen years," he said, pushing his plate away, "but I don't know much about what they were up to. They didn't bother us here. I guess we were too small, too in the middle of nowhere. Or maybe something in this Aperture of yours kept them away."

"Our news supply isn't great," Gerry put in. "We hear things weeks out of date, and in crap detail."

"It's getting better now we've got a working radio," Trevor added, "but at the time we were pretty cut off. Anyway, there was a resistance movement working against the Combine. After they acquired an important ally, they made huge progress in taking them down. They destroyed their centre of command, which was…I forget where. Somewhere in Eastern Europe, a place they renamed City 17."

"Who was this ally?" Doug asked curiously.

"Gordon Freeman!" said Gerry enthusiastically. "I had such a crush on him, but he shacked up with some woman from the resistance. Such a shame."

Trevor rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

"What?" Gerry laughed. "He wears the same kind of glasses as you, love."

"Of course," Trevor retorted dryly, smiling.

Chell was amused by their banter, but keen to hear more details of the Combine's defeat.

"Gordon Freeman is a bit of a shady character," Trevor went on. "His name was linked with the original Black Mesa incident, as well as his work with the resistance, yet he doesn't seem to age."

"That's not impossible, though," Doug pointed out. "Chell and I are proof of that."

"That's true," Trevor admitted. "I guess we'll never know for sure, but he was right in the thick of things at the end. The resistance brought down the reproduction suppression field, then they found some…weapon of vital importance that allowed them to send the Combine back to their own world."

"Sealed off the way forever," Gerry commented.

"What weapon?" Doug asked with a frown.

"I don't know any details, sorry," said Trevor. "Maybe someone else could tell you if you get nearer Wyoming. I hear they're pretty civilised down there these days." He took a sip from his glass of water before continuing. "So, that was all six years ago now. Humanity's starting to rebuild."

"There are a _lot_ of six-year-old kids running around," Gerry said with a grin.

Chell gave a quiet huff of laughter at his expression, then clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a yawn. Suddenly, she felt exhausted, wiped out by a long day, painkillers, comfort and food, all coupled with her earlier outburst of grief.

"Sorry," she mouthed, lowering her hand.

"No need to apologise, hon," Gerry told her kindly. "You look dead on your feet."

She nodded, agreeing, although she'd been pleasantly surprised by the state of her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

"We'd better let you two get some sleep," Trevor announced, standing.

"Can we help you clean up, at least?" Doug offered.

"I wouldn't hear of it," Gerry declared. "We can handle a few plates. Go get some rest."

"Thank you."

Doug and Chell retreated to the lounge, where they would be sleeping. Trevor brought them some bedding, then left them alone. After a brief argument that she knew she'd have no chance of winning, Chell agreed to take the couch while Doug made up a bed for himself on the floor.

"You forget, I'm used to this," he reminded her, moving a pillow. "At least I have bedding, so it's already better than what I had in my dens."

She had to admit he had a point, and she was too weary to argue further. Curled up in a soft, knitted blanket, sleep claimed her within minutes.

* * *

Doug was mildly annoyed to have awoken in the early hours of the morning, but he'd slept well enough that it didn't bother him too much. Moving softly so as not to disturb Chell, he left his makeshift bed and retreated to an armchair. The room was lit with the first cold rays of daylight creeping through the pale-coloured curtains.

Everything was still. Neither the house nor the town was awake yet. Even his head was peaceful, free of voices, no shadows dancing in his peripheral vision. He'd gotten so used to ignoring it all, treating it almost like white noise, that it was strange to be without it. It was welcome, certainly, but strange.

His gaze fell on the cube, sitting silently by his bed like a blocky end table. His attachment to it had been based almost solely on its voice, the way it had helped him through the tough times, yet he still felt the need to keep it with him. _Habit_ , he guessed. The sight of it was familiar and comforting still.

Chell stirred in her sleep, bringing one arm out from under her covers without waking. Her face was so serene, like the last painting he'd done of her. All her stress, sorrow and determination were gone, the burdens lifted from her as she rested.

Doug reflected on the previous day's conversation, the one he'd been dreading ever since he'd made her test subject number one. Revealing his betrayal had gone better than he could have hoped. She'd forgiven him for the choices he'd had to make, had listened with obvious sympathy as he explained it all to her. All the concealed truths he'd been carrying for years had been set loose, freeing him.

 _She knows everything now_ , he thought. _All my secrets._

He reconsidered that as another truth clamoured for attention, one that he'd been doing his utmost to keep hidden.

 _All my secrets,_ he amended with a concerned frown _…except one._

* * *

The amount of light in the room when she awoke told Chell that she'd slept in quite late, so she was not surprised to find herself alone but for the companion cube.

 _Pity you couldn't have returned my voice when you were finished with it,_ she thought flippantly, unable to help smiling at it as she swung her legs off the couch.

Stiff from her long sleep and her wounds, she clumsily got dressed in her new clothes before heading out and following the sound of voices to the kitchen. Trevor and Gerry greeted her brightly and offered her toast, which she accepted. They explained that Doug had ventured out to the town's only hairdresser, apparently fed up with his wild, untidy mop. Money had little value in Ishpeming, so Gerry had gifted Doug with a selection of garden vegetables to present to the hairdresser in exchange for her help in making him look less like a hobo.

"Gerry!" scolded Trevor.

"What? He said himself he looks like a hobo!"

Chell was too amused to protest, rather in agreement with the description anyway. She wasn't used to seeing her best friend looking like a throwback to the 1970s. While she finished up her breakfast, she listened to Trevor and Gerry's banter, enjoying hearing stories of their everyday life. It sounded very different from life as she had known it.

Trevor found her an old notepad so she could join in, and she scribbled a short explanation about where she'd once lived. Gerry looked at her with wide eyes, revealing that they'd once been neighbours. Chell barely remembered anyone in the area, especially as she'd spent so much time at Aperture, so she had to take his word for it. He didn't remember her either, which was not surprising seeing as he'd only been a teenager at the time. Still, it was a strange coincidence, one that seemed to highlight to them all that she was technically from a different time entirely.

Doug arrived back at the house as Chell was finishing up her toast, appearing in the doorway with a small, self-conscious smile. His hair had been cut into the tidy style he'd had before GLaDOS, and his beard was much shorter and neater, complimenting his face rather than hiding it.

Chell looked at him in surprise. It hadn't occurred to her that he would keep the beard, but she had to admit the tidier version suited him, somehow reducing his natural awkwardness. She appreciated being able to read his expressions more clearly, and to actually see when he was wearing the subtle, wry smile that always drew a similar smile from her.

"I, uh, kind of got used to it," he said, running a hand across his chin.

Gerry spoke up cheerfully, "I like it! Very handsome."

Doug smiled a little, as if he didn't completely believe him but appreciated the sentiment.

Chell nodded her own agreement, sending him a thumbs up and a warm look.

"Really?"

She nodded again, feeling, absurdly, like she was about to blush. In all their years of friendship, she couldn't recall a single incident of them commenting on each other's looks.

Looking rather adorably pleased, Doug joined them at the table, soon engaged in conversation with Trevor as they discussed what needed to be done with the generator. Chell studied him as he talked, deciding she liked the new look, but she wasn't fussy. She'd liked the way he looked before GLaDOS too. She dropped her gaze whenever he turned her way, not able to give an explanation for her scrutiny that wouldn't be awkward, but Gerry noticed and winked at her across the table.

 _He probably thinks we're together,_ she realised. _Well, we did pretend for Brad and Trish._ She wasn't about to correct him.

Doug and Trevor headed out shortly after that, so Doug could make good on his promise. Chell helped Gerry with a few household chores, but he didn't let her do anything too strenuous. After that, he went out to his garden, and Chell settled on the couch with her writing pad to scribble out an account of her trip through old Aperture. Reliving it was not fun, but she felt safe seated on the cushions, her feet warmed by the sunlight streaming through the window, so it was not too much of a trial.

When Doug returned, he seemed frazzled but pleased, his hair sticking up in odd angles. The sight was so familiar to her after so many years of watching him run his hands through it while stressed that she couldn't help smiling.

"I think I've fixed it," he announced, collapsing in the armchair.

She nodded. _Well done._

"Not sure it really counts as science though."

 _Probably not._

"How are you doing?"

She lifted her hand, curling her fingers into the 'okay' symbol.

"Do you think you'll be up to leaving tomorrow?" he asked, looking a touch conflicted as he spoke. "Normally I'd say wait until you're healed, but…"

 _We're still so close to Aperture_ , she finished silently, nodding.

"I'm sorry, Chell, I just…think we need to be moving."

Although her wounds still hurt, she had to agree. There was a deeply-ingrained restlessness inside her that she knew was tied to Aperture. Only distance would cure it.

Flipping to a new page, she wrote, 'I'll manage. I'd rather be gone too.'

"Are you sure? We don't know how long it might take to find somewhere else to restock."

'I'm sure,' she added firmly, underlining the words.

Perhaps they were foolish to set out on foot into the unknown, but Chell knew they couldn't stay, however welcoming Trevor and Gerry had been. Ishpeming was just too close. She would have persuaded the entire population to move if she could have, but she doubted many of them would take her word for it. To leave their homes because of an unseen adversary's _potential_ threat on the say-so of a couple of 'time travelling' strangers was madness. Even Chell could see that.

"I'll see what I can do to get us more supplies," Doug went on. "Maybe there are other people with broken generators."

Chell smiled a little at that, picturing him as some kind of one-man generator repair team.

"I went by the house this morning," he said with a sigh.

Chell raised her eyebrows. _Oh?_

"It was more or less the same as yours, only emptier. I guess it was a resource for someone else's house repairs."

She shot him a look of sympathy.

"I…I'm not really materialistic," he told her. "Especially not after Aperture, but…I can't help but feel bad about my books."

Chell knew all too well how easy it was to mourn seemingly trivial things. During her breakdown in front of her own former home, she'd spent quite a few tears on the mementoes she'd lost. The documents with her birth parents' names had been buried in the mess, the only link to them she had other than her exotic looks.

"I know they're just books," Doug went on, "but I built up my classics collection over my most difficult years of adjustment. They were…kind of a reminder of what I could survive."

She nodded understandingly. She knew how much the classics meant to him: so much that they had stayed with him even at his most wild. She'd found quotes and paraphrases scattered all over the walls behind the test chambers, and it was only down to his enthusiasm for the written word that she'd been able to recognise them at all. In hindsight, it should have been clear as day who'd written the graffiti, and she pondered why she hadn't let herself imagine that it was him. At the time, she'd been too afraid to get her hopes up, letting her stubborn mind convince her that the message-writer's identity was unknown.

 _Who knew that that gawky teenager I bumped into would end up convincing me to read Emily Dickinson_? she thought fondly.

"But it's no use crying about it now," he said with a decisive shrug, breaking her out of her reminisces. "They're long gone."

 _And so should we be_ , Chell added silently.

"We need to focus on what we're going to need," he went on. "Do you think we can get maps?"

"We can get you a map," Trevor said, appearing in the doorway, "but Gerry and I have been thinking. We've got a truck we just use for long-distance trading. We're about due to go to St. Ignace. We can take you as far as there if it's a help."

"That would be a huge help, thank you," Doug told him earnestly, as Chell shot Trevor a smile.

"Fuel's in short supply around here, otherwise we'd try and get you a vehicle, but we figured getting you to the Straits would be helpful. At least you'd be starting your journey from the lower peninsula."

Chell had never seen the Straits of Mackinac in person, but she knew her geography well enough to know that it was the narrow band of water separating Michigan's upper and lower peninsulas. In her time it had been a busy shipping route, dominated by the Mackinac Bridge, but somehow she doubted that was the case now.

"Is the bridge still standing?" Doug asked.

"It's still standing," Trevor reported warily, "but I doubt it's safe to cross, even on foot. But I've heard that there's a guy who owns a boat who rows across all the time."

Chell scribbled a question on her notepad. 'What does he charge for that?'

Trevor leaned forward to read it, frowning. "Honestly, I don't know."

"That's okay," said Doug, his tone more calm than Chell would have expected considering the uncertainty of the situation. "I'm sure we can trade with someone in St. Ignace if need be."

"Probably," Trevor agreed, leaning on the doorframe. "Your journey's going to be tough, not gonna lie. There's not a whole lot between here and St. Ignace, just small communities like this one. Once you get to the other side of the Straits…no idea. We haven't travelled far since the occupation."

"I don't blame you," Doug said with sympathy. "The whole landscape must have changed."

"And then some," Trevor muttered quietly, sounding like a man looking far into the past.

It wasn't until they were all on the road the next day that Doug and Chell were able to truly appreciate just how altered things were. Entire sections of landscape were a wasteland, scorched sticks where trees had once stood, the earth dry and crumbling. Patchwork communities like Ishpeming were scattered across the state. They stopped at most on the way so that Trevor and Gerry could trade their fresh vegetables and dried fruit. Doug and Chell sought additional supplies for their journey.

"Whatever the Combine did," Gerry explained to Chell, "altered the soil quality in some places. So they can't grow what we can, and vice versa, so we trade every few weeks to mix things up a little."

It was a good system, based on trust and mutual agreement. Doug traded his engineering skills for a couple of large, sturdy backpacks and some warm blankets. Chell wondered how he was planning to carry a backpack _and_ the companion cube, but she didn't ask. He'd find a way, she was sure. She was more concerned with making sure he let her help carry everything. She was healing, yes, but she didn't want to let it stop her. And she wasn't convinced that bringing up the cube in front of Trevor and Gerry was a good idea, both of whom had been too polite to ask about it so far. They hadn't commented on Doug's routine of pill-taking either.

Back on the road, they noticed the scenery starting to look a little more like they remembered it. Nowhere, it seemed, had escaped being war-torn, but the extent of repair and rebuilding differed depending on where they went. When they reached St. Ignace, they saw that it was in better condition than Ishpeming, although there seemed to be less land dedicated to farming.

Trevor and Gerry dropped them as close to the empty Mackinac Bridge as was convenient. Gerry hugged them both, while Trevor settled for a sedate handshake.

"Good luck," Trevor wished them, his tone severe but genuine.

"Thank you," Doug replied, as Chell nodded her response. "You too. Did you decide what to do?"

The bespectacled man nodded at once. "We did. We're staying."

"Ishpeming is our home," Gerry put in.

"But," said Trevor sternly, "we'll be vigilant. Just in case."

"Thank you so much for everything," Doug said sincerely. "We couldn't have gotten this far without you."

"We like to help where we can," Gerry answered them. "Now get going, you two. You have a family to find."

Smiling, Chell nodded to him and shouldered her backpack: the lighter of the two, but still full to bursting with all their supplies.

"I hope we meet again one day so we can repay you for your kindness," Doug told them both.

"We'll keep a look out," Trevor assured him with a brief smile.

Final parting words were exchanged, then Trevor and Gerry drove off, leaving just Doug, Chell, and the long road to Wyoming.


	28. Reunion

**2035.  
Reunion.**

It took Chell and Doug almost two weeks to reach Wyoming. Neither of them were experienced hikers, and their injuries slowed them down quite drastically. Doug's leg, although stiff, had healed to the point where it was giving him almost no pain, but Chell needed frequent rests, which annoyed her no end.

Their supplies lasted them well, and they were able to restock the essentials at the residential areas they passed through. Doug carried his share of their luggage on one side and the cube on the other, without uttering a single word of complaint about the weight. The cube had almost become their mascot. They'd begun using it as a table when they made camp for the night, sitting either side of it as they shared their food. Chell was never without her notepad, so their conversations flowed easily, if a little slower than they'd used to.

Doug had read her account of old Aperture with interest, asking her a multitude of questions about what she'd seen. She'd answered as best she could, but the place had made her uneasy. Aperture's history catalogued a train wreck of bad decisions and financial difficulties, up until the point where Caroline had taken over from a dying Cave Johnson. Chell was still puzzling over what GLaDOS had said to Doug, the way she'd been so confident that Chell wouldn't get sick from moon rock poisoning. Although it sounded like the A.I. had been alluding to Caroline having a hand in her boss's death, Chell couldn't match that conclusion up to the bright, enthusiastic voice she'd heard on the pre-recorded messages, the voice of a woman who'd clearly idolised Cave. In the end, she had to accept that she'd never have the answers, and that Caroline could have had many reasons that she simply hid from everyone. It was frustrating, but the events were long over and done with. They were best left in the past.

Camping out in the open was becoming the norm, as they very rarely found anywhere to shelter, but they'd been lucky with the weather so far. It hadn't rained once since they'd left Aperture, and the dry, dusty landscape was starting to show signs of needing a shower or two. Chell wondered if the portals that had delivered the Combine had somehow messed up the weather. Some of the people in the towns they passed through had given them more information in addition to what Trevor had told them. The Combine hadn't been the only alien lifeforms to come through. There had been others, some of which had been friendly, but they'd all been transported away by whatever the resistance movement had done. Chell found the whole thing difficult to get her head around, but she and Doug had enough information to blend in now, which was all that mattered. They didn't relish the idea of anyone taking an interest in Aperture. Brad and Trish had been bad enough, and they had to hope that Trevor would keep an eye on them.

The closer they got to Wyoming, the fewer breaks Chell had to take. Her stitches dissolved after ten days or so, but she was still cautious of the wound. It was healing nicely, but still sore, which she was starting to get annoyed about. Her annoyance led to the only fight she and Doug had ever had, but even then it lasted barely two hours before they both apologised and talked it over. Chell supposed it was only natural, as they were living side by side with only each other for company, but she didn't like arguing with him. It left a gnawing, unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach.

It was strange, but since their first hug, right before Doug had put her into short-term stasis, they'd been a lot more open about physical contact, as if that hug had broken the dam they'd both previously maintained. Part of it was about seeking comfort, Chell knew. It was nice to squeeze an arm in consolation or bump shoulders while sharing a joke. They both suffered from nightmares, and had become each other's support, each taking it in turns to calm the other with a hand to hold, and in Doug's case, soothing words muttered.

Chell's nightmares hadn't started until she'd been properly rested. The first few nights away from Aperture, she'd been too exhausted and too sore to dream anything that really bothered her. After Trevor and Gerry's hospitality, and after she'd had time to grieve for her father, she suddenly found her sleep interrupted by flashbacks of her experiences. Sometimes it was GLaDOS who haunted her, sometimes Wheatley, sometimes the threat of being pulled into space, and once it was a distorted version of Cave Johnson, who climbed out of his portrait and tried to inject her with praying mantis DNA. Hindsight had made that one seem ridiculous, but it had been disturbing at the time, and she'd been glad that Doug hadn't pushed for details. She never asked him about his dreams either. She was fairly sure they were similar to hers, if not worse.

Doug was edgy on the day they walked into Wyoming. Chell couldn't blame him for that, nor was she surprised, but his anxiety wasn't helped by the fact that he'd woken up twice during the night. She'd spent several minutes on both occasions tracing soothing circles on his back with her palm, waiting for his ragged breathing to adjust. Idly, she'd noticed that his spine didn't stick out quite as much as it had done, and that regular food was doing him good, but she'd been mostly focused on his agitation.

As they walked into the city he was quiet and tired, but his eyes were alert, taking in everything. Chell had never been to Wyoming before. Her dad's work hadn't allowed them to leave Upper Michigan much. In her opinion, the city was looking pretty good. The streets were smooth, the houses well-maintained. But for the lack of cars on the roads, it almost looked…normal.

"My parents used to live near Battjes Park," Doug told her as they walked. "I think I still remember the way."

Aside from a couple of wrong turns, he was largely correct. The house was a generous size, in good condition, although its roof was a mixture of old and new tiles, and the fence around its back garden was in need of repair. Doug stared at it for a good long while, his hand nervously opening and closing in a fist as he worked up the courage to approach and knock on the door. Chell hovered by his side, trying to be supportive without seeming pushy. She knew how difficult it must be for him. His relationship with his family had picked back up in the years before GLaDOS, but he hadn't seen them in person in a long time.

"I'm…not sure I know how to do this," he admitted quietly.

Chell squeezed his shoulder, offering him a tiny, encouraging smile.

He turned to her, eyes full of uncertainty. "What if they're…?"

 _You'll never know if you just stand here_ , she urged him silently.

But then the decision was made for him. The front door opened, revealing a young, dark-haired woman, just a few years off thirty if Chell was any judge. She glared at them both with an openly hostile, suspicious look.

"Any reason why you're just staring at my house?" she snapped.

Her harsh tone seemed to jolt Doug out of his stupor. "We're…um… Sorry. Uh…does…the Rattmann family still live here?"

The woman narrowed her eyes at him. "Why?"

"I'm looking for William and Charlotte," he told her hesitantly. "They, um, used to live here...years ago."

She scrutinised him for a long moment, then said, "Wait here a sec," before disappearing back into the house.

Doug and Chell waited in awkward silence, hoping she hadn't gone to fetch a shotgun or something equally unwelcoming. When she returned, however, it was with an older woman, her mother, judging by the resemblance. The newcomer's gaze swept over them both, coming to rest on Doug, where her expression became a picture of stunned, confused disbelief. Doug was staring back, his mouth slightly open in shock, and Chell suddenly realised.

 _She's his sister._

They did not really look alike. Where Doug was all angles, his sister was curves, but their hair was the same deep black, although hers was now generously laced with grey, and their eyes were the exact same shade of blue. She looked to be in her early sixties, a fact that Doug was clearly having trouble adapting to.

"I…I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare," the woman said, stepping out towards them. "You…you look…"

"Julie?" Doug managed to get out.

At the name, the woman halted, her eyes widening. "Who are you?" she asked, sounding half afraid of the answer.

"It's me. It's Doug."

She visibly reacted to his words, closing her eyes as if she'd been slapped. When she opened them again, her voice was cold. "That's impossible. Doug's dead. And even if he wasn't, he'd be sixty years old by now. What are you trying to pull?"

"Julie, I mean it. It's me," he told her earnestly. "There was an incident at Aperture in 2007. The place locked down. Most people died, but those who survived were put in cryogenic storage, that's why I haven't aged in over twenty years." He sighed wearily. "You have to believe me."

"Prove it," the younger woman spoke up.

"What?"

"Go on," Julie added, folding her arms. "Tell me something only Doug would know."

Chell heard the faint tremble in her voice, and knew that her aggressive stance was just hiding how emotional she truly was. Chell figured that Doug looked enough how Julie remembered him to add credibility to his story.

"Something…okay," Doug conceded, pausing to think. "Um…when I was six you told me that Santa Claus was an evil pixie who would break into the house and take credit for gifts that Mom and Dad bought us, and you said he'd hurt me if he caught me looking out for him." His face took on a wobbly smile as he recalled the incident. "I was so shaken up I was going to tell Mom. You got scared I'd get you in trouble and you admitted you'd made it up. You made me swear never to tell anyone, and I never did."

Julie pressed her lips tightly together, her eyes suddenly glistening with unshed tears. "Go on," she said.

Doug nodded, clearly seeing, as Chell was, that he was getting through to her. "I asked Dionne Woods to the prom and you gave me dating advice. Then in college, when I started dating Lucy, you gave me…uh… _different_ couple advice, and we both got really embarrassed about it." He cleared his throat, continuing in a softer, sadder tone. "When I finally called you again, after…after I'd learned to cope with my condition…you yelled at me and then spent ten minutes apologising. But…you were right. I should never have left it so long. In hindsight it just seems even worse, but I was stupid and…"

His words were cut off as Julie darted forward and hugged him, her tears now running unchecked down her cheeks. Doug suddenly broke down too, hiding his face in her shoulder.

Chell watched them, feeling strangely emotional herself. When she cast a quick glance at Julie's daughter, she was looking much the same, all traces of snappishness gone.

"I can't believe you're here," Julie said through her tears. "And…still young! But you're alive. You're alive. Thank god."

"Mom and Dad?" Doug asked quietly, pulling away.

Julie shook her head. "They're dead, Doug. I'm sorry."

He nodded. "I…think I knew that," he said shakily. "It seemed…too much to hope for." He closed his eyes for a brief moment, regaining control. Opening them again, he asked simply, "How?"

"In the war. You…know about that, right?"

"Yes. So…it's been a long time for you. Since they've been gone."

"Twenty-six years," Julie confirmed with a sniff. "And nearly nineteen since I lost Luke. You remember him, right? You met him one Thanksgiving." At Doug's nod, she added, "He joined the resistance movement. Got himself killed. I don't even know the details."

"Julie, I'm so sorry," Doug said earnestly. "I remember you telling me that he was the one."

Julie gave a watery smile and a brief laugh. "I remember that too. I was right, you know. I married him after the war. This one was only two years old." She jerked her thumb in the direction of her daughter, who smiled sadly.

Chell didn't recall Doug ever mentioning a niece. When she glanced his way, she saw the confusion in his face.

"I tried to call you so many times when I found out I was pregnant," said Julie, sighing. "I wanted to be the one to tell you that you were going to be an uncle. But I could never get through. After a while I got worried, and Luke and I drove up to Ishpeming to try and find you. The town was half empty, and those that were still there told us that there'd been an accident at Aperture and everyone had been killed. Anyone who went over there to try and get in never came back. Eventually people just stopped going. We had to turn back and…accept that you were gone."

"I'm so sorry," Doug murmured, although it wasn't his fault.

Julie waved off his apology and turned to her daughter. "This is your niece, Angela."

Angela looked a lot like her mother, but her eyes were dark brown, and her hair had a distinctly auburn tint to it. She extended a hand awkwardly, which Doug shook.

"Pleased to meet you," she said, her tone and manner more polite than it had been initially. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Oh," Doug muttered warily.

"Good things," Julie assured him, dabbing her eyes with her sleeve.

Doug smiled at her, then turned to Chell. "This is Chell," he announced.

Julie did a tiny double take, meeting Chell's gaze and smiling before looking back at her brother. "Chell? As in…Chell from work? The one you wouldn't stop talking about when you used to call?"

Chell shot Doug an amused, slightly surprised glance, one eyebrow raised. _Oh really?_

Doug gave an embarrassed laugh, looking at his feet. "You have a disturbingly good memory," he muttered. "Yes, Chell from work. She was my only friend until I started working with Henry and Robert, of course I talked about her."

Julie sent Chell a wink, clearly falling comfortably back into her role as big sister. "It's lovely to meet you."

Chell nodded and smiled.

"I'm afraid she doesn't speak," Doug explained when Julie looked a touch bemused.

"Oh. Okay. Something to do with what happened to you?"

"Yes. I'm hopeful her voice will return when it's had time to heal."

Chell rolled her eyes, feeling a little self-conscious when he caught her doing so.

With a tiny, amused smile, he added, "Chell disagrees with me on that one. She's pessimistic like that."

She looked at him incredulously. _I am not!_

"You are a bit," he retorted teasingly, reading her expression.

She sighed loudly, lifting her gaze to the clouds as she put forward her lack of amusement.

Doug laughed, a much lighter sound than she'd heard from him in a long time. She couldn't help but smile at it, shaking her head as she met his gaze. Julie smiled too, although there was something benevolently calculating in it. Then her expression switched to one of confusion.

"Doug, what is that thing you're carrying around?"

Doug's smile dropped as he glanced over his shoulder at the companion cube. "Um…long story. It has sentimental value."

Julie raised her eyebrows sceptically. "Well…okay then."

"Mom, shouldn't we go inside?" spoke up Angela. "They both look exhausted."

"Of course!" Julie exclaimed, shaking her head. "I'm so sorry. You…you threw me off. To say the least."

"It's okay," Doug soothed her. "We understand."

Julie ushered them all inside. Chell followed Doug into the spacious hallway, watching him attempting to look at everything all at once.

 _Is it how you remember it?_ she wanted to ask him.

"You redecorated," he said.

"A couple times since I inherited the house," Julie nodded. "I couldn't stand to see it looking like Mom and Dad had it. I only stayed here because Luke said it would be a great house to raise a kid in."

"He was right," Angela told her, squeezing her arm.

Julie sent her a smile, then gestured them through the nearest door. "Come and sit down."

Chell entered the light, airy room, sinking gratefully down into a corner of the couch, dropping her backpack by her feet. She couldn't deny that comfort was welcome after two weeks of camping, although it had been strangely peaceful to trek across the countryside.

Angela disappeared to fetch drinks, and Julie and Doug talked of their lives, catching up. Angela soon returned with glasses of apple juice, which gave Chell the sugar boost she hadn't known she'd needed.

Doug told their story almost from the beginning, omitting some of the details for the sake of clarity. Chell added things occasionally via her notepad, but he had it all covered pretty well. Julie and Angela listened with interest and horror, the latter with an additional touch of fascination.

"So you two had no idea about the war or the occupation?" Angela asked.

"None," Doug told her. "We only heard about it a few weeks ago, from a man in Ishpeming. He said the resistance dealt with it after they had help from someone important."

"Gordon Freeman," Julie put in.

"Yes. He seems pretty well known across the whole country."

"Not just the country," said Julie, "the entire world knows his name. People looked up to him as a symbol of hope. They called him the One Free Man."

"Mom, he hates all that stuff," Angela put in defensively.

Chell glanced at her curiously, wondering if she knew the man they'd heard so much about. It certainly seemed so based on the way she'd spoken. Doug apparently thought so too, as he asked her directly.

"Oh, my Angie knows him all right," Julie said proudly, before her daughter could answer. "They worked together. I told her stories about you when she was growing up, so I guess it's no surprise she ended up a scientist."

"Mom…" Angela murmured, exasperated and a little embarrassed. "I've worked with Gordon a handful of times. I know him a little bit, that's all. Mostly I worked with his associate, Dr. Kleiner."

"Freeman is a scientist?" Doug asked, sounding surprised. "From the way people were talking about him it sounded like he was some kind of super hero."

"He's both," Julie declared.

"He worked at Black Mesa," Angela explained. "So did Dr. Kleiner. They were both survivors of the incident, along with another friend of theirs, Eli Vance. Eli's dead now, but the three of them were the scientific backbone of the resistance. Gordon also took on some more…hands-on tasks for the resistance, some of which kind of turned him into a soldier, almost. He paired up with Eli Vance's daughter, and they made quite a team."

Doug met Angela's gaze. "We were told that Freeman found something that forced the Combine back to their home world."

"Gordon wasn't the one who found it," Angela said with a quick head shake, drawing a strange look from her mother. "That was one of Eli's associates. But he was the one who used it to finish it all. Alyx Vance helped, although she didn't want to. Right before her father died, he had an argument with Dr. Kleiner. He didn't want to risk using the thing, but Kleiner said they should. With Eli dead, Kleiner got his way, but Gordon and Alyx insisted on handling it."

'What was this thing?' Chell scribbled on her pad.

"Well…normally I wouldn't even have said this much," Angela admitted, curling her hands around her glass. "But I made an exception because…well, it was something that Aperture built."

Doug looked at her in confusion. "It was?"

"Yes. A ship. It was found somewhere in the Arctic."

His eyes widened. "You mean…the _Borealis_?"

"The what?" put in Julie.

"Aperture thought it was lost," Doug went on. "Well, I guess it _was_."

"Yes, the _Borealis_ ," Angela confirmed, her voice quiet.

Chell shot Doug a puzzled look. The name sounded familiar, but she couldn't think why.

"I think I told you about this once," he said. "The ship that disappeared right out of the dry dock in the 70s."

With a jolt of realisation, she remembered the conversation, and recalled stumbling across the dry dock on her trip through old Aperture.

 _Only Aperture thinks it's logical to build a dry dock miles beneath the surface and far away from the coast._

"In my time, the ship had become a kind of mystery, a…fairy tale story that people joked about in the break room," Doug went on. "Nobody really knew what had gone on there, and nobody took it very seriously."

"Maybe they should've," said Angela, putting her glass on the coffee table and folding her arms. "It contained sophisticated but unstable teleportation equipment, purely experimental. That's how the ship ended up in the Arctic in the first place. Gordon and Alyx had a difficult battle with the Combine before they managed to secure it. The Combine had killed the woman who located it initially. Eventually, they were able to teleport it back to Dr. Kleiner."

"And they figured out a way to teleport the Combine out?" Doug surmised.

"Yes, pretty much. We're…still not really sure _how_. Dr. Kleiner was experimenting and…something worked." She shrugged.

Chell bit her lip, frowning. It was not reassuring news, although she was hardly surprised at Aperture technology being so unpredictable.

"He accidentally pulled all alien life out of Africa," Angela continued, drawing yet more surprised looks from her mother. "Gordon figured out what he'd done enough to repeat it, but I don't really understand it. I don't think _Gordon_ understood it. He just made it work somehow."

"Aperture experiments are volatile," Doug said grimly. "They can be impossibly effective and achieve incredible things, but they're almost always lethally dangerous."

"Gordon held a similar view. He wanted to honour Eli Vance's wishes and destroy the ship. Dr. Kleiner assured him he would."

"Good, because I don't–"

"But that's just it," Angela interrupted uneasily. "He didn't do it. He kept it, insisting that he could figure out how it worked and make it safe. That's why I eventually stopped working for him, I couldn't keep going back to that thing."

Doug looked instantly worried, his brow furrowed. Chell felt suddenly wary watching his expression change, almost how she'd felt back at Aperture: a tense kind of restlessness.

"That's…not good," Doug murmured, running a hand through his hair.

"Part of me didn't want to leave," Angela said with a shrug. "Mom persuaded me, but honestly…that thing gave me the creeps. We'd been working with it for over six years, but Dr. Kleiner was no closer to figuring out how it works. Even if he managed to stabilise it…I don't know. Being able to teleport between worlds seems all wrong."

Chell gave a quiet huff of laughter. _That's Aperture all over_.

Angela glanced at her blankly.

"We're both kind of cynical where Aperture is concerned," Doug explained distractedly.

"Oh."

"I may have persuaded you to leave," Julie said, her tone defensive, "but for a long time, you didn't."

"No," Angela agreed. "I was interested in the work. But I didn't like that we were lying to Gordon and Alyx, and I stayed because I wanted to see if there was any way I could destroy it. In the end, though, it…it was too much."

"Have you told Gordon?" Doug asked her.

Angela shook her head, looking conflicted. "I wasn't sure if I should. I mean…he'll just ask why I didn't tell him before, and…" She trailed off, leaving awkward silence in her wake.

"Well, I'm glad you gave it up," Julie said, smiling. "New Mexico is too far away."

"You can blame Dr. Kleiner for that. He accidentally teleported the ship to the site where Black Mesa used to be, then couldn't get it to move again. He built his lab up around it."

Chell scribbled a question. 'And Gordon has no idea what goes on there?'

Angela read it and shook her head. "He and Dr. Kleiner had an argument a while back. They don't talk much. Gordon's retired now, anyway. He and Alyx settled in Kansas after everything died down."

"There was a call to put him in a position of authority, but he refused," said Julie.

"I think Alyx would have killed him if he'd taken it," Angela grinned.

"Who _is_ in authority?" asked Doug. "I can't believe I've only just thought to ask that."

Chell offered him a small smile when he looked her way, indicating that she'd forgotten to ask it too.

"Technically the president," Julie informed them, "but the government relies heavily on the leaders of individual states, who in turn rely on community leaders. With the population so much lower than it was, there's not a lot of law enforcement volunteers. Things are run much more…what's the word I'm looking for?"

"There's not just one person in charge," Angela cut in. "And as far as I know, other countries have adopted a similar system. We can't communicate over long distances as well as we could. The Combine knocked out the entire cell phone network. Scientists are working on reinstalling it, but without satellites there's not much we can do."

"Who's president?" Doug asked.

"You wouldn't know him," Julie told him, "but it's a man called Edward James. He's nice enough, I guess. For a politician. I don't know how much you know about the war, but for a while Earth had just one leader. Well, representative. Wallace Breen. It was thanks to him that humanity survived at all, but he was in league with the Combine. They accepted his surrender on humanity's behalf, then let him be their spokesman on Earth."

"And what happened to him?"

"Nobody knows for sure," Angela said with a shrug. "But he's almost certainly dead."

A brief period of silence fell over the group. Outside, the sun was beginning to set, casting everything in a soft, golden light.

"So, what are you going to do now?" Julie asked Doug, smiling.

Doug shifted in his seat, raising a questioning eyebrow. "You mean…now that we're free and we found you?"

"Yes."

He seemed at a loss, turning to Chell for help. All she could do was shrug, however. They'd been so fixated on finding Doug's family that they hadn't had chance to consider the future.

"I…I'm not really sure," he said eventually. There was a shadow of some stray thought in his eyes, however, that made Chell think that the statement wasn't as true as he intended.

"Well you don't have to decide right away," Julie declared, sitting forward to gather the glasses together on a tray. "We'd be happy to have you stay here as long as you want."

"We don't want to be a burden on you," Doug told her, snatching the words right out of Chell's head. "I know life is hard these days. For everyone."

"Don't worry about that," Angela assured him. "We can manage. And you're family. I'd like to get to know my uncle better."

Doug smiled at her, but it was obvious that he was still wary of putting a strain on their household supplies.

"Come on," said Julie, getting to her feet, "let me show you to your rooms so you can get settled. It will be nice to actually have them get used!"

Unable to do anything but accept, Chell and Doug stood and picked up their luggage. Julie was right. There would be time for them to figure out what to do, and Chell wanted Doug to enjoy his time with his sister and niece without worrying. She doubted that would happen though. He was a habitual worrier. For herself, it would be an opportunity to rest and regain her strength, and to work out what her place would be in the new society she found herself in.


	29. A New Direction

**2035.  
A New Direction.**

Settled in the guest bedroom, Chell was examining her wound in the mirror, curious to see how it was doing after two weeks on the road. The hem of her vest top held securely in her teeth, she ran her fingertips lightly over the bump of scar tissue, still red and raw-looking despite being healed. In time she knew it would fade to pink and then white, but for the moment she would still have to be mindful of it.

After a soft set of footsteps from the room next door, Doug appeared in her open doorway, eyes widening when he saw what she was doing. "Oh, sorry," he said self-consciously.

She waved him in, smiling to herself at his habitual awkward courtesy. It was misplaced in this particular instance anyway. He'd been solely in charge of tending to the injury while they were travelling, as she hadn't been able to see it.

"Are you happy with the progress?" he asked, entering the room and sitting on a rickety desk chair.

She nodded, dropping her mouthful of cloth and rearranging her top, deciding it was time to leave the bandage off. Turning away from the mirror, Chell seated herself on the edge of the bed facing him, pulling her notepad into her lap.

"I, uh, was thinking," Doug began, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward and studied the carpet. "I…want to go to New Mexico."

Chell silently ground her teeth, annoyed but unsurprised by the declaration. She'd seen his stricken, thoughtful expression, and she knew him well enough to know what would go through his mind. He glanced up to read what she hastily wrote on the pad.

'I had a feeling you would.'

His lips briefly quirked in an attempt at a smile. "Don't get me wrong, I'd rather not, but…I'm the last surviving Aperture scientist. I don't think I can leave that ship in a working condition. Not in good conscience."

 _Damn your conscience_ , she thought at once, although she knew she didn't really mean it. It was part of what made him who he was.

'It could be dangerous,' she wrote, keeping her irritation hidden.

"I know," he said with a sigh. "My instinct says run, but…I can't. It's…my duty…to deal with it. To…do something good. Since I failed with GLaDOS."

Chell took in his guilty expression with a frown, hating the way he took the blame on himself. She completely understood his reasons for wanting to go, which just served to annoy her further, but she was also afraid. _I can't…lose him_ , she realised with a flash of panic.

Doug frowned as he studied her face, and she knew she'd done a poor job of concealing her thoughts that time.

"What is it?" he asked, concerned.

She shook her head, shooting him a quick, humourless smile.

"Chell…" His voice was a mildly exasperated sigh.

Grudgingly, she scribbled, 'I'm just worried, that's all.'

"About me?"

She met his gaze, confused by the question, which seemed unnecessary in the extreme. Doug, too, appeared to be surprised that he'd asked it.

'Of course,' she wrote simply.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, although she wasn't sure why. She knew he needed reassurance sometimes, even if she'd proved herself in the past as someone who cared.

 _I care_ , she mused. _I care so much, and I wish his mind would let him accept it._

Perhaps some of it could be seen on her face, as his eyes narrowed pensively as he looked at her.

'I'll come with you,' she said, her writing a little neater as she lowered her gaze to the paper.

He read it, immediately shaking his head. "No, Chell, it's fine, you don't have to. I'd never ask you–"

She held up her left index finger to silence him while she wrote furiously with the other hand. 'You didn't ask, I'm volunteering.' She wondered why he was arguing the point. He'd as good as signed her up when he'd decided to go himself.

"You said yourself it might be dangerous."

'I've faced danger before.'

He took in the words with a quick sweep of his eyes. "Not like this. If we get this wrong, we could end up trapped in a different universe. Or worse, separated and trapped in _two_ different universes."

'I'm willing to take the risk if you are,' she wrote back stubbornly.

Doug looked down at his lap, brow furrowed.

 _We're in this together, as always,_ she reminded him silently. Reaching out, she gripped his chin and forced him to look at her. _Okay?_

He did so with wide, surprised eyes. Then he sighed and gave a tiny nod. Chell held his gaze, intent on making her determination known. His sigh was a gentle whisper of warm breath on her skin, and she dropped her hand, clenching it into a fist in her lap. Doug's expression seemed unusually guarded all of a sudden, and Chell wondered if she'd crossed a line.

Then Julie appeared in the doorway, making them both jump, and the strange moment was broken. After establishing that everything was fine with their rooms, she retreated back downstairs, and the conversation turned to forming a plan.

"I'd like to stay here for a few days if that's okay," Doug said, when the sound of Julie's footsteps had faded away.

Chell nodded, keen to have some time to recuperate.

"Then we'll stock up and…start walking, I guess."

She pulled a face and wrote, 'You want to _walk_ to New Mexico?' She took the time to put in the italics so that he'd read it in the tone of voice she would have used. 'It's a thousand miles away.'

"I know," he said with a sigh. "It would take us…" He glanced at the ceiling, running a quick calculation in his head. "…Probably about two months. Unless we can find a vehicle."

Chell felt tired just thinking about it, but she knew that a few days of respite would soon have her feeling restless again. It wasn't like she had any other commitments in her life.

As it turned out, they stayed with Julie and Angela for three weeks. That proved to be just enough time for Chell to heal, for Doug to catch up with his sister, for Angela to help prepare them for their trip, and for Julie to fret about it. Although Angela was happy to provide them with maps and addresses, she declined to join them for the journey, explaining that Dr. Kleiner was not very happy with her for quitting. Privately, she added that she didn't want to leave her mother alone, nor bring her along. Doug heartily agreed, and so they planned just for the two of them. Chell was glad about that. The fewer people to put at risk, the better.

They stocked up on supplies, and Angela drew on a road map to let them know where they could find water and occupied towns. They managed to acquire an ancient car that nobody wanted, planning to drive until the fuel tank was empty, then walk, cutting several days off their journey. Angela told them about a few places she knew of that specialised in breeding horses, but she mentioned not knowing what they took in payment. Doug baulked at the suggestion of riding a horse, but Chell was amused by the idea. She'd grown up watching old Western movies with her father, so she couldn't help but smile at the thought of Doug and herself galloping to save the world from Aperture's experiments.

Julie spent most of their preparation time trying to talk them out of it, but neither would listen. Chell knew they'd both committed themselves the moment the words were out of Doug's mouth. Julie could clearly see it, as she didn't seem remotely surprised, despite her efforts. What she _did_ seem to find surprising was Doug's confidence and calm manner throughout their stay. Angela confided in Chell that her mother had told her stories of Doug's struggle with first being diagnosed with schizophrenia, how he'd raged at the world and the situation he'd found himself in. Chell had already known most of it, but it was interesting for her to hear it from an outsider point of view. She knew his experiences had made Doug a vastly different person to the one he'd been back then.

On a separate occasion, she'd heard the subject raised again, by accident this time. Doug and Julie had been outside chatting, taking slow walks around the garden. Chell had elected to stay inside and rest, but had found herself overhearing snatches of their conversation through the open window nearby.

"…so different," Julie had been saying. "It's good, don't get me wrong, but I'm a little surprised. You seem…so much more assertive somehow."

"I told you, Chell is good for me. When we first became friends she helped me…accept myself more. I was still bitter when I met her again. I hid behind sarcasm and silence. But she drew me away from that side of myself."

"She's pretty special then," Julie had baited him.

"Yes, she is," Doug had answered her, his tone pointedly casual.

Chell had smiled to herself as they briefly moved out of earshot, knowing that she should close the window, but unable to stop listening in spite of the guilt she felt at hearing words that weren't meant for her.

"…no, I told you then and I'm telling you now, it's not like that," Doug's voice had drifted up to her, sounding exasperated.

"Yes, but sometimes I think…"

A change in the direction of the breeze had cut their conversation to pieces, delivering only fragments to the window where Chell had sat frozen.

"…didn't say that…"

"…am your sister, I know you better than…"

"…doesn't matter. She doesn't…"

"…think you're wrong about that one."

"Julie, just…just stop. Please."

"…that's what you really want, but it won't change what I think, and I'm telling you, she…"

Their voices grew louder as they turned back towards the house.

"…thought I was the one that saw things that aren't there."

"That's not funny, Doug."

"Look, Chell is the best friend I've ever had, and that's that. She's good for me. She…makes me a better person. Isn't that enough?"

And at that, Julie had said with a smile in her voice, "Of course it is."

Over the three weeks, Chell got to know Julie and Angela quite well. They were both warm, likeable people, and they automatically liked her because she was important to Doug. When Chell had the alarming realisation that she hadn't had her period when she was expecting it, Angela accompanied her to the doctor. Her presence was a huge help in explaining Chell's recent history, which the doctor, to his credit, seemed to take in his stride. But still, she'd been forced to write out that there was no chance of pregnancy, as she'd not been intimate with a man in well over two years, (or thirty, depending on how one chose to look at it). The verdict in the end was inconclusive, ruled as either a result of stress or a side effect of her long-term suspension. Her muteness, too, was 'probably temporary' with no guarantees.

 _So basically_ , she had summed up internally, _I can't speak and may never again, and I probably can't have kids, which I wasn't thinking about anyway, but now inevitably am…_

The whole thing had made her irritable, and poor Doug had had no idea why until Angela managed to discreetly tell him some vague story. Chell hadn't known if she wanted children, but she knew that it was actively encouraged in this new world. The population had taken a huge dive, and it was considered an unwritten duty to boost it again. That had made her uncomfortable to begin with, but now it was worse.

 _Damn you, Aperture. Why can't I leave you behind? Why do you constantly have to make my life worse?_

When they'd done what needed to be done with the _Borealis_ , Chell vowed to settle somewhere largely unpopulated, not letting herself think about that fact that she'd probably end up doing so alone. Instead, she turned her thoughts away from all her troubles and set her focus solely on preparing for their journey.

On the morning of their departure, everyone was quiet and reflective. Julie and Angela sat at the breakfast bar in the kitchen while Chell hovered nearby, full of nervous energy. When Doug joined them, he was as Chell best knew him: clean-shaven and wearing a tiny, awkward smile.

"Oh!" said Julie in surprise. "That's the Doug I remember!"

"I thought it would be easier for the road," he explained. "I don't want to end up how I looked coming out of Aperture."

"Which was?"

"Like someone who'd been on the run and sleeping rough for three years."

Chell smiled at him when he looked in her direction. She'd gotten used to the beard, but she couldn't deny that it was nice to see him looking like her friend again.

"Are you ready?" he asked her.

She nodded, holding up the three notepads and fistful of pens that she'd acquired.

Doug chuckled when he saw them. "Priorities."

 _Damn straight_ , she answered him inwardly.

After a long, tearful goodbye with Julie and Angela, they finally got on the road. Chell took the first shift, driving as economically as she could in order to save fuel later on. If they were lucky, they'd be able to fill up somewhere, but she doubted it. Gas stations were few and far between these days. Doug sat on the passenger side with the map on his knee, the companion cube behind him on the back seat with some of their supplies.

"Can't believe we never took a road trip before," he commented with a smile. "What kind of friends were we that we skipped that?"

 _The kind that thought they could stop a super computer from killing hundreds of people_ , Chell thought grimly.

From the way his face dropped, she guessed Doug's thoughts had taken him in a similar direction.

 _We put a lot of stuff on hold to concentrate on that mission_ , she reflected, frowning. _It consumed our whole lives. What kind of situation would we have been in if our friendship had been normal? We probably_ would _have taken a road trip, or…spent time away from the facility, doing normal things that people do._

"Guess we were never destined to have a typical relationship, were we?" Doug said at length, his face turned away from her view.

 _I don't care_ , Chell thought in response. _We're here now. We made it. We have plenty of time to do that stuff if we want to._

The thought gave her a boost of optimism about the future. It was so uncertain in her mind. She was painfully aware that she didn't have any useful skills that she could utilise, other than general secretarial things and the ability to run long corridors in high heels. Doug would be just fine. The world would always need scientists, but she was feeling pretty useless in comparison. Adapting to the new post-war world was proving to be tougher than she'd thought.

 _Guess I need to learn farming, or at least how to take care of myself_.

As yet, they hadn't really discussed what to do after they dealt with the _Borealis_. Chell wondered whether it was avoidance, or whether they were both sceptical about their survival. Either way, she assumed that Doug would settle in Wyoming, to be near his sister and niece. Or perhaps he'd persuade them to leave, to move somewhere even further away from Aperture. It was a result of his condition that he'd go to great lengths to feel safe, but Chell understood it completely.

They drove for most of the daylight hours, taking turns behind the wheel. The car proved to be an effective shelter during the night too, with one of them sleeping in the back, and the other curling up on a reclined front seat. But even with careful driving, they ran out of gas a few hours into the third day, halfway across Missouri. They couldn't complain about the distance they'd covered, however, and so they loaded themselves up with supplies and started walking, leaving the car where it had gracefully rolled to a stop in the road.

Chell was able to take on more luggage this time, which pleased her. She hadn't liked the limits her injury had enforced on her, and she was glad to have some of her strength back. Following Angela's map annotations, they found clear streams off road where they could refill their water bottles and wash the clothes they'd worn. Angela had travelled back from New Mexico in a vehicle convoy, but she'd told them that camping had still been necessary, and she'd been shown several useful locations.

They crossed days off a handmade calendar as they trekked onwards, not wanting to lose track of time. On the morning that ended their third week on the road, Chell awoke to a cloud-scattered sky, something she hadn't seen since leaving Aperture.

"Do you think it will finally rain?" Doug asked, squinting upwards.

Chell shrugged. She hoped it would. She was getting tired of walking through dust, feeling the grit of it on her hair and skin. The landscape was wilting, and she was worried that the streams would dry up if something didn't happen soon. They were, by Doug's calculations, just over a week away from reaching the place where Angela had said they could find Gordon Freeman. A week would be a long time if they ran out of water.

It had been a long trip already. Chell was by no means tired of Doug's company, but she was aware that they had become quite dependant on each other. Of course, they always had been to an extent in Aperture, but it was different this time. Out in the real world, it felt almost as if they were carving a new path of friendship over the old one, and she wasn't sure how she felt about that.

 _Relationships change, it's natural_ , she assured herself. She knew that, yet she couldn't help feeling anxious, almost nervous. It was a strange thing to feel, as their companionship and humour had barely changed, making her wonder if her concerns were all in her head.

 _It's just the thought of living alone somewhere that bothers you_ , she reflected.

As they walked on, she shoved the thought aside. They were travelling across a wide expanse of Kansas countryside, empty for mile after mile but for the occasional collection of ruined buildings. They had grown used to that sight. People had abandoned their homes in favour of gathering together in larger populated areas. Some states, they had found out, had even imposed marriage laws in order to boost the number of children being born. Discovering that had made Chell extremely uncomfortable, making her even more acutely aware of the effects Aperture had left on her. It brought all her concerns about fitting in rushing back to the surface, and she'd had to fight to keep her worries from Doug.

 _Stop thinking about that_ , she ordered herself.

Under the welcome shade of the clouds, they crossed the dry, dusty landscape in companionable silence. The rain held off all day, but the lack of sunlight brought darkness earlier than usual, and they were forced to call a halt. Chell built up the fire while Doug shook out their sleeping bags and blankets, each working around the other with practiced ease. They had camp-making down to a fine art. Chell was a little concerned about their lack of shelter, but there was nothing they could do about it. If it _did_ rain, they'd get soaked. Despite knowing that the downpour would be welcome, she didn't relish the thought of being out in it when it came. She pulled the top of her sleeping bag over her head before drifting off, just in case.

Their nightmares had lessened as time passed, but each of them fell prey to one or two on occasion. Doug had had a quiet week, and they were both beginning to hope that he was free of them, but Chell found herself awoken by his muttering halfway through the night. Sitting up, she looked across the glowing embers of the fire to where he was tossing and turning, his expression pained.

Slipping out of her sleeping bag, she padded around the fire to kneel beside him, placing her hands on his shoulders as she tried to soothe him.

"No, no!" he whimpered, his hand clenching into a fist.

 _It's okay, it's okay_ , she repeated mentally, as if she could somehow convey it to his overactive brain.

Doug flinched at something, lurching as if he'd meant to sit up and had changed his mind. His hands shot out, clumsily catching her on the jaw. Chell barely felt the sting of it, too intent on drawing him away from what was haunting him. She'd never seen him so animated during a dream.

 _Come on, wake up_ , she pleaded, rubbing his upper arm to let him know she was there.

After a while he seemed to register her presence, looking as if he was trying to pull himself out of it. Then his eyes opened, clouded by whatever he'd seen in his nightmares, and he gasped for breath like a man half-drowned. Chell squeezed his shoulder as he fought to wake up completely, and eventually he met her gaze.

"I'm here," he assured her. "I'm awake."

She nodded, sitting back on her heels. Doug sat up, pressing his hands to his eyes. He was still trembling.

"She'd taken you," he murmured, and Chell didn't have to ask who he meant. "I couldn't reach you. No matter how hard I tried, she kept moving the paths. Then there were turrets. I…I couldn't fight my way through." He lowered his hands and sighed. "I thought I was getting over these," he confessed wearily.

Chell nodded in sympathy, and Doug's brow furrowed as he looked at her.

"What's…? Did I do that?"

She assumed he meant the bruise she could feel forming on her jaw. Chell smiled, shrugging it off. He hadn't done it on purpose, after all. She wasn't about to bear a grudge.

"Oh god, Chell, I'm so sorry."

Still staring at it, he reached out and ran his fingertips across the reddened skin. Chell froze, eyes widening in shock. Gently, he tilted her head to better catch the dying light of the fire, intent on checking that he hadn't caused her more damage.

"I…I would never have…" he stuttered, dismayed.

She gave a nod. When his eyes met hers, she tried to send him a clear message: _I know_.

"It…doesn't look too bad," he told her. "Does it hurt?"

Chell shook her head. She couldn't feel anything except for the warmth of his hand and a small explosion of nerves in the pit of her stomach that had her feeling slightly alarmed. It wasn't the first time she'd experienced it, but this time seemed worse somehow.

Doug held her gaze for a long moment, then seemed to remember where he was. He blinked and dropped his hand, glancing down at the fabric of his sleeping bag.

Chell caught her breath, biting her lip as she fought off a sudden wave of embarrassment. When Doug finally looked up again, she jerked her head towards her own sleeping bag before getting to her feet.

"Of course," he muttered. "Good night. And…thank you for waking me."

She sent him a nod and a smile that felt a little insincere. Then she burrowed under her covers, turning away from him as she curled up, heart pounding, one single strand of thought present in her mind.

 _What the hell was that?_

* * *

 **A/N:** Just to make you all aware, we are fast approaching a time when the rating will go up. I promise I won't sneak anything up on you, though.


	30. Sanctuary

**Warning:** This chapter contains mature content. I know some people are wary of that, so let me tell you what you can expect. There is no coarse, clinical or crude language. It's very character-driven, it's about emotion more than anything else. If you still want to skip it, I completely understand, but you will miss some important moments. I would recommend skimming over the shippy parts and reading the dialogue, but if you decide to skip it altogether, feel free to PM me for a brief update on what you missed :)

I'll be honest, I'm nervous about this. I rarely write sex scenes, and I've never let one loose into the wild before. Please be nice!

* * *

 **2035.  
Sanctuary.**

They made it through the night without being rained on, but the thick bank of cloud had grown darker and heavier. Chell eyed it edgily, aware that they had limited protection from the weather. She didn't want either of them to get caught in a storm and get sick. They didn't have provisions for that scenario.

'If we find somewhere to shelter, I think we should just stay there for a day or two,' she wrote on her notepad.

Doug paused in his packing to read it, nodding in agreement. "I think that would be best," he said. "This storm could break any day. It might not be safe to be out in it."

Once they were under way again, Chell kept a look out for buildings that still had undamaged roofs. The Combine hadn't left much, which wasn't surprising.

They walked in silence most of the time, quiet and reflective. Chell purposely kept her thoughts away from the strangeness of the previous night, but the bruise on her cheek was a constant reminder. It was only a small one, more irritating than painful, but she saw the guilt cross Doug's face whenever he looked at her. She wished he'd stop. It had been an accident.

As the day drew to a close, they stumbled across a small collection of farm buildings. Most of them were completely in ruin, but the farmhouse itself seemed largely intact. Part of its roof had collapsed, but it was still complete over what had once been an open-plan kitchen and living room. Chell guessed that the furniture had been looted a long time ago, looking at the state of the place. They wouldn't be the first people to stay there, judging by the remains of a camp fire in the middle of the room. The bedrooms had been hit during the war and were unusable, the ceilings all but gone. The previous tenants had dragged the mattresses off the now-ruined beds, taking them into the main room, by the fire pit. An indoor campsite.

"Not a bad idea," Doug commented as they surveyed the room.

Chell nodded in agreement. Nights were cold. They'd discovered that quickly enough. She'd been hoping for a real bed, but the mattresses looked surprisingly clean and comfortable, and they would be a vast improvement on the hard terrain she'd been sleeping on lately. Despite the relative comfort, she had trouble drifting off on their first night there, continually expecting to hear the tell-tale patter of raindrops on the roof, but there was nothing.

"How long is this going to go on for?" Doug pondered the following day, heating water over the fire so that they could have their morning coffee.

Chell shrugged, looking at the rectangle of sky she could see through the open front door. It was still warm, the cloud cover making it humid and uncomfortable. She couldn't pretend to be sorry that their mission was delayed. The fact that they had no plan was weighing on her mind, as was the important meeting with Gordon Freeman, who she knew they only had one chance to convince to help. She only hoped that Angela had made a good impression on him, and that Doug being her uncle would be enough for him to listen to them.

The day dragged its heels. With nothing to do but wait out the inevitable storm, they spent their time napping or in silent contemplation. Chell took walks around the immediate area, making sure not to stray too far. She found herself pulling weeds up from what had once been the front garden of the house, just for something to do. Her head felt crowded with worries and concerns, with no clue as to how to solve any of them. It bothered her, as she didn't like not being able to take action. But some were out of her hands, some she avoided out of fear, and some would only be eased by time.

 _I've never been good with life skills_ , she realised suddenly, brushing the crumbling, dry earth off her jeans. _Almost my entire adult life I've been chasing conspiracies at Aperture. I don't know how to live in the world everyone else lives in. Especially this one. It's so different._

At the back of her mind, she knew she was just covering ground she'd already covered, but she couldn't help going over it again. In some ways, it scared her more than anything she'd faced at Aperture. At least there she'd been in a position to fight back.

 _Fretting about it won't solve anything_ , she thought firmly, getting to her feet.

A faint rumble of thunder echoed overhead, and Chell turned towards the house. Doug was sitting by the fire, heating up something in the single saucepan they carried with them. They didn't talk much. Their conversations had been stilted since Doug had had his nightmare. He was as silent and reflective as she was, seeming troubled by something he kept to himself. It was another concern on Chell's list, one that needed to resolve itself sooner rather than later before it had any serious impact on their relationship.

The thunder, as it turned out, was a false alarm. The cloud bank remained as constant and dark as ever, and Chell wondered how much time they'd wasted waiting for it to burst. They didn't dare leave their shelter, just in case they couldn't find another one, but their time in the farmhouse seemed to take on a surreal limbo-like quality while they waited.

Another day like the first one passed, with no let up. Doug was a little more communicative, but still distracted, and Chell was beginning to fear that something had changed beyond her control. She doubted it was fixable. That was the way things worked between people. They simply had to find a way to move forward from it. The trouble was, she wasn't sure what they were moving on _from_. Her best guess was the nightmare, and the bruise on her jaw that was already fading. She wanted to assure him that she didn't blame him for it, but anything she wrote seemed bland and artificial, like something she would write out of obligation to make him feel better rather than something she actually meant. He hadn't showered her with apologies, but sometimes she saw something in his face that made her suspect that he wanted to. Once again, Chell figured that time would heal. The trouble was, she had never been patient.

The third day was unpleasantly humid, filled with slightly less silence than the day before. It was a small improvement, but an improvement nonetheless. Chell decided to attempt optimism for a change, which turned out to be harder work than she'd anticipated. By late afternoon, she was back to her edgy pensiveness. Something had changed in the air, she could sense it. The storm was not far off now. She was relieved, as it was only adding to her tension.

She busied herself with feeding small bits of wood into the fire, watched by the companion cube that had sat happily in the corner for the duration of their stay. Chell wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. The fire was making her sweat. However warm the day had been, she knew they'd need the fire once the sun set. Not that they could see the sun, it had been hidden behind the dark clouds for days now.

"Here we go," said Doug quietly.

Chell pivoted on her bended knee. He was standing in the open doorway, leaning against the doorframe as he kept a watchful eye on the weather. He shot her a glance over his shoulder, lips quirked in a small smile. Looking past him, Chell saw the dusty pathway outside begin to speckle with dark drops.

 _Finally._

Dropping the twigs, she got to her feet and joined him at the door, gazing out at the flat, dry countryside. They kept companionable silence as they watched the landscape turn darker shades of brown and green. Already the air felt cooler. Chell couldn't remember the last time she'd seen rain. A long time before GLaDOS, that was for sure. The earthy scent was purifying and familiar, enough to bring a smile to her face. A wave of nostalgia sent her through the door, out into the path. Grinning, she turned her face up to the clouds, closing her eyes, relishing the cleansing drops on her face.

"What are you doing? You'll get soaked!" Doug called, although he was laughing. She hadn't seen that in a while. It lightened her heart in a way that almost dispelled the constant butterflies in her stomach.

Feeling recklessly carefree for the first time in a _long_ time, Chell extended her arms and spun, her loose hair and open shirt floating in her wake. It wasn't long before Doug's prediction came true, and she came to a halt, her wet hair slapping her in the face as it lost its momentum. Despite the dropping temperature, her shirt and vest top still felt pleasantly cool rather than cold. Opening her eyes, she turned back to the house, where Doug still stood in the doorway.

His expression was one she'd never really seen before: unguarded, full of truths that he'd kept to himself. She met his gaze, the earnestness of it making her breath catch in unexpected awareness. He seemed taken aback at being caught and was suddenly hesitant, as if debating whether to raise his shields once more. He lingered uncertainly for a moment, but then he took half a step forward, eventually approaching her with no concern for the rain. Chell had all but forgotten it herself, pinned in place by the look in his eyes, scrambling for some measure of understanding as to what it really meant.

Doug stopped an arm's length away, indecision evident in his demeanour. Then he let out a soft huff of laughter, reaching out a hand to brush her damp hair off her cheek. Chell smiled a little sheepishly as she imagined what she'd looked like with hair stuck to her face. She nodded her thanks, never taking her eyes from his.

"I…uh…" Doug began awkwardly. He shrugged. "You…you looked like you again. From…before any of this happened."

 _Untroubled, he means_ , she thought. _Normal. Happy._

Her smile turned a little sad. His hand rested on her shoulder, and he moved forward, seemingly searching for what to say next. Chell watched his struggle, unsure what her own expression looked like. She wasn't sure what would have happened had the thunder not made them both jump.

They both wore embarrassed smiles, the tension broken, and in silent agreement, they headed back to the house. Chell perched on her open sleeping bag by the fire, leaning in to dry her hair and clothes. The dance in the rain had been fun, but it had eventually made her cold. On the opposite side of the flames, Doug did the same, running a hand through his neatly cropped hair as he tousled the excess moisture out.

For a long while they sat in silence, each staring into the fire, lost in their own thoughts. After the hint of how things had used to be, the delight of laughing in the rain, the quiet felt heavy and dismal. An unwelcome return to what had become the norm in recent days.

Chell replayed the moment outside, pondering it. It was the moment following his nightmare all over again, only this time… Had she simply imagined that anything was different? She chanced a look up and immediately met Doug's gaze, warped by the flickering flames. It took her aback a little that he was watching her, but it served to make her realise that no, she hadn't imagined it. Although he was a little more guarded this time, she could see something more in the way he looked at her. There was a slight element of wariness in him, a touch of self-consciousness, but his walls were finally down. He'd given up hiding what he'd seemingly been hiding for weeks. His gaze wasn't usually so intense, so…heated. Chell felt her heart give a little flip, her stomach tying itself into sudden knots. Her throat was dry, and she swallowed. She knew what it meant when a man looked at her that way. But this wasn't just any man, this was Doug, her best friend, the best friend she'd ever had.

 _So why do I keep staring back at him?_

He was too uncertain to act on it, she knew that for sure. Acting on it would change everything, pivot the whole dynamic of their relationship on its axis. Perhaps it would cause irreparable damage to their friendship. Chell couldn't bear the thought of that, but she couldn't look away. There was something compelling in his blue eyes that made her pause and consider that their relationship was changing regardless of what she did. Maybe it had been for a while. Maybe it had always been evolving and she simply had to be brave enough to move forward. They weren't going anywhere as they were, fighting against the tide.

Her ever-present edginess kept her in her place, too afraid to move. Once she did, there was no going back, she knew that. Yet, at the back of her mind, she knew this was the turning point they'd both known was coming. Why else had they grown so quiet and pensive, each trying to halt their feelings in their tracks rather than let them affect their relationship?

 _I can't_ , she decided suddenly. _I can't do that anymore._

Feeling clumsier than usual, Chell found herself getting to her feet. Doug's face registered brief surprise as he watched her make her way around the fire. She reached his side, halting there in a sudden burst of apprehension. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. She'd already changed the game just by approaching him, just by returning those burning looks, but her bravery had run out. She simply stood there, eyes still locked with his, unable to take the leap and move closer. After everything she'd faced in Aperture, it felt strange to be cowardly now, here. She didn't like it, but neither could she move.

Doug seemed frozen in place too, but then he shifted slightly. There was a moment's pause, a moment of hesitation, then he lifted his hand to her. Feeling as if she was moving through syrup, Chell reached out and took it, slipping her fingers into his palm. Together, they brought her nearer, and she dropped to her knees beside him. For a moment they simply stared at each other, close enough now to take in every flicker of emotion that crossed the other's face. In Doug, Chell read the same fears and uncertainties that she felt in herself, but there was also the same resolve to follow the new thread to wherever it would lead. That resolve was an unstoppable force, drawing them closer together, and so they followed it.

They moved slowly, giving themselves ample time to back out, but they both knew that things had already been inevitably changed. Chell was the one to gather her courage and close the gap, leaning forward to press her lips to his. It was a sweet kiss, affectionate, the first step on their way to learning a new side of each other. She felt Doug tighten his grip on her hand, his thumb gently caressing the backs of her fingers.

They drew apart, almost nose to nose as they took in each other's expressions. Chell felt flushed, almost giddy, her heartbeat still wild. By the look on his face, Doug felt much the same. A spark jumped between them, melting away any lingering hesitation. Doug cupped her cheek, his palm warm on her damp skin, leaning in to kiss her with greater urgency. Chell met his eagerness with her own, shifting forward and gripping his shirt. His hand moved, fingers slipping through the loose strands of her hair, brushing the sensitive skin at the back of her neck. She shivered, feeling it tingle all the way down her spine.

Pulling back a little, Doug pressed a feather-light kiss on the bruise he'd accidentally given her, his breath stirring her hair. Chell shivered again, the sweetness of the kiss almost getting lost in the way it made her feel. He moved back and their eyes met, and Chell was struck with the strange sensation of everything being exactly the same as it had ever been, at the same time as being completely different and new. She saw the nervous concern finally leave his eyes, and she realised that he'd seen the same thing she had. Her own fear evaporated and she pulled him forward by a handful of shirt, anxious to feel his lips on hers again. She felt him smile at her actions.

The remaining space between them suddenly felt too far. Without breaking apart, they moved closer until Chell found herself in his lap, one hand in his hair, the other tracing paths up his back. Doug pulled away from her just enough to trail his lips down her neck. She gasped silently, tilting her head to give him better access. Caught up in impatience, her fingers scrabbled for the buttons on his shirt, needing to feel his skin against hers. Task done, she ran her hands over his chest, fingertips learning new routes. She felt him tense, and she knew he was uncomfortably aware of how thin he was after three years on the run in Aperture. He'd improved vastly since they'd left, no longer looking malnourished, but he would probably always be slim. She didn't care, she never had, and she could admit to herself now that she wouldn't change a single thing about him.

Pulling her head back, she met his gaze, trying to reassure him with her warm smile, her fingers still ghosting across his skin. He trembled under her touch, eyes dark as he returned her gaze. He reached up to slip her damp shirt off her shoulders, and she wriggled out of it, dropping it to one side. With a smile, she returned the favour. Although he'd been a perfect gentleman so far, Chell could see how painfully conscious he was of the way her soaked vest top clung to her skin. Taking his hands in hers, she placed his palms on her waist, under the top. Slowly, he moved them up, taking the fabric with them. Chell lifted her arms, and he slipped the vest up and off before regaining his light grip on her waist.

Doug studied her, seemingly analysing her expression. She wondered if she looked as flushed as she felt. Judging by the small, pleased smile he wore, she assumed she did. She kissed him again, wiping the smile away, tracing his bottom lip with her tongue. His lips parted in a muffled gasp of surprise, and she took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, needing to be closer still. He matched her point for point, making her feel pleasantly light-headed.

Part of her wondered if they were rushing things, to leap from first kiss to what they were inevitably hurtling towards, but she silenced it. It didn't feel rushed, and that was what mattered. In fact, she suspected that they had been slowly building to this for a long time.

His hands slid up her back, hovering just inches away from the strap of her bra. Pulling away just far enough to rest his forehead against hers, he breathed her name, asking permission. She nodded at once. She felt feverish, the fabric of the clothes she still wore stifling her. After one or two misses, he unhooked her bra, and she leaned back to slip it off her arms, dropping it behind her. If her past experiences were anything to go by, this was the point where her partner would feel the need to rattle off a clichéd line about how beautiful she was. Chell liked to be appreciated, of course, but she hated clichés, especially when they seemed to be cover lines to excuse the fact that her partner was staring at her chest. They never seemed to realise that they wouldn't be staring at her if she didn't want them to.

She braced herself for the words, schooling her expression so that she wouldn't make Doug feel bad, but they never came. He took in the sight of her bare skin in silence, comfortable enough now to do so unapologetically. Pleasantly surprised, she watched him watch her, her mouth falling open a little as she studied his face and understood. He _did_ find her beautiful, but he intended to show her rather than tell her. The realisation made her breath hitch.

She'd always admired his hands: those long, dextrous fingers that could create beauty from nothing. Feeling their calloused touch on her exposed skin caused her head to fall back as she arched into him, her eyelids fluttering closed. He took advantage of that, returning his lips to her throat as she clung to his shoulders.

Although there was undeniable respect and fondness in their interactions, there was a sense of urgency too. Part of it was unmistakably brought on by the way they were sitting. The layers of material between them were starting to feel oppressive. Chell reached a hand down between their bodies, drawing a sharp intake of breath from Doug. She grinned, stroking him through the fabric, enjoying the reactions she was getting.

"Chell…" he rasped.

She knew what he meant, what he wanted. They moved apart just long enough to remove any remaining clothing, all lingering coyness pushed aside. Despite their haste, they both had the presence of mind to keep their discarded garments away from the fire, which was crackling away beside them, banishing the chill brought on by the rain. They studied each other in the gathering darkness as the flames bathed them both in warm tones. Chell reached out and ran a hand over the scar the turret bullet had made in Doug's leg, the skin healed but raised in an ugly relief.

"Don't," he whispered, and she halted, worried that she'd hurt him. "It's…it's not…nice to look at."

Once again she tried to reassure him with a smile. Bowing her head, she placed a light, accepting kiss on the ravaged skin. She felt him tense, heard him inhale abruptly. After all, the wound was on his thigh, rather close to…other places. Her smile turned mischievous and she kissed the scar again, sliding her hand up to wrap around his heated flesh. His breaths turned ragged and quick as she moved her hand in a slow, steady rhythm. Keeping it where it was, Chell sat up, leaning in to kiss him. He slipped an arm around her waist, his other hand reaching up to cup her breast. He brushed the pad of his thumb across her nipple, making her gasp against his mouth.

Pulling back from her, he lowered his head, replacing his hand with his lips. Chell's mouth fell open as she leaned into him, barely retaining the presence of mind to keep up the motion of her hand. Her willpower was tested again not a moment later as his fingers dipped down between her legs. She had admired his hands before. It was nothing to how she felt about them now, as they touched her where she most needed to be touched, those clever fingers setting her aflame with their caresses. Even if she could speak, she had no words.

She tightened her grip on him, felt his warm breath on her skin as he reacted. He looked up at her with heavy-lidded eyes, something passionate and determined buried in their depths. His gaze sent a stab of desire through her abdomen, and she let him go, raising her hands to his face as she kissed him deeply, the short, neat hairs of his three-week-old beard prickling her fingertips.

She felt the loss of his fingers as he moved his hands to her waist, his grip firm as he pulled her forward into his lap once more. Chell braced herself on her knees as she shifted into the right position. She met Doug's gaze, reading in his face the same awareness that she felt herself. This should have been the point of no return, technically. But she knew they'd left that behind some time ago. Her eyes never left his as she slowly sank down onto him, feeling the slight discomfort of using muscles she hadn't needed in a while, despite the fact that she was more than ready. As she settled against him, the soreness all but vanished, allowing him to slip all the way in. They both sighed, sharing the feeling of wholeness.

Doug's arms were tight around her, fingers splayed against her back. She bent her head, hiding their faces in a curtain of rain-damp hair as she sought his lips again. Gradually, she began to move, the sensation helping to appease the butterflies in her stomach and the burning longing he had awoken within her. He returned his hands to her hips, guiding her in her search to find the pace they would set together. Chell clutched his shoulders, stealing a kiss whenever the momentum allowed. They kept their faces close together, maintaining the intimacy despite their need for each other. Their breaths grew louder, more rapid, matching their movements. Chell felt as if her entire body was ablaze with her desire for him, their rhythm both stoking the fire and dousing it all at once. It was a heady feeling, one that she was happy to get lost in.

After a while, Doug gripped her waist, stilling her as they took a moment's respite. She glanced at him enquiringly, silently asking if everything was all right.

"Your legs are shaking," he murmured, running his hands over her aching thigh muscles.

She nodded, a little embarrassed. After everything she'd faced at Aperture, she should have had the body of an athlete by now, but recovering from her injuries had set her back. She let Doug move her up and off him, smiling as he deftly flipped them both so that she lay beneath him on the cool fabric of his sleeping bag. He leaned down to brush his lips against the scar in her side, accepting her wholly as she had accepted him. She ran her fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck, appreciating his gesture but needing more.

He sent her a smile, drawing away only to have her pull him back down as he sank back inside her, the new angle making them both gasp anew. It didn't take them long to find their pace again, picking up where they'd left off mere moments before. Chell wrapped her legs around his waist, running her hands down his back as he nipped at her neck. She raked her nails across his skin in retaliation and he hissed, retorting with a scrape of teeth at the base of her throat. She knew she wouldn't last long. Her body was a coiled spring: there was only so much tension it could take. Although she was still learning this side of him, she didn't think that Doug was far off either.

Leaning back a little, he reached a hand between them, one finger caressing her most sensitive flesh with light, circular movements. Chell loosened one leg to give him better access, knowing she could never get enough of him stroking her there. His fingers matched the rhythm of their coupling, touching her inside and out, leaving torturous bliss in his wake. She arched her back as he quickened the pace, digging her nails into his skin as he stirred some crucial point deep inside her. It was intense, intense and wonderful, and she felt rational thought slip away as the pressure built. She was so very close.

She opened her eyes, meeting his, taking in his expression and the unconcealed hunger he no longer felt compelled to hide. He dipped his head to her neck once more, gently biting her soft flesh, breathing her name in a reverent, ardent tone. With a shudder, Chell reached her breaking point, gasping in his arms as her release crashed over her. Doug followed almost at once, moving his hand so that he could collapse against her, his groans inducing her to cling to him tighter as she rode out the rest of her pleasure. She let out a rasping, breathy moan, the noise startling them both a little, but not enough to take them out of the moment.

For a long while they lay still, savouring the feeling of their lovemaking as it faded. Chell caught her breath, running a soothing hand up and down Doug's back as he lay with his face buried in her hair. Finally he stirred, moving back so he could see her properly. She smiled at him. He smiled back, leaning down to kiss her gently, tenderly. With slow, careful movements, he eased out of her, and she felt the cool air hit the dampness on her thighs.

Sitting up, she reached for her discarded vest, already destined for the wash pile. She used it to clean herself up before offering it to Doug. He seemed amused, but did the same, throwing it into a corner when he was done. He tugged the blanket that was folded neatly at the foot of the mattress up over them both. It was chilly in the cabin despite the fire.

Chell curled against him as he lay back, resting her head on his shoulder, her palm flat against his chest. She could feel his heartbeat, already returning to a steady cadence. He tightened his arms around her, holding her close, his cheek pressed to her hair. For a long, peaceful moment they simply lay there, enjoying their situation, but Chell knew there was something on both of their minds that needed addressing.

Eventually, Doug cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Chell," he began. "Just now, did you…? Um…your voice…"

She shrugged awkwardly, not sure what her sudden involuntary noise indicated.

"Can you speak again?"

She pressed her lips together, almost afraid to try in case it had been a fluke. Seizing her courage, she opened her mouth. "…I…" The word was gravelly and quiet, but unmistakably _there_. Every time she'd tried to speak since leaving Aperture she'd been met with total silence, unable even to whisper. After a while she'd given up trying at all. But Doug had been right: all her voice had needed was time to repair itself. She swallowed, then tried again. "…I…think…so."

Doug let out a little laugh, hugging her closer. "Chell," he said warmly, "this is fantastic!"

She tilted her head to smile up at him. "Yes," she agreed. She blushed slightly thinking about how she'd discovered its return, then smirked. It certainly made for a memorable first time, that was for sure. Shifting, she propped herself up on her elbow, stroking her palm down his cheek as she leaned in and kissed him in gratitude, joy, and… Her thought halted in its tracks as she realised there was something else they needed to talk about.

"Doug," she said, adopting a loud kind of whisper that was a bit more forgiving on her throat. "I…I just want you to know…I appreciate you…sticking by me…all this time." Her speech was much more hesitant than she wanted, but she was grateful for it nonetheless.

He looked slightly bewildered, as if he hadn't been aware of any other option _but_ sticking by her. "Of course."

"And," she went on seriously, "you need to know… – because I know the way you think – …this…" She indicated them both. "I truly believe…that this would have happened…even if…" She trailed off, frustrated with her dry throat.

"GLaDOS hadn't taken over," he finished for her. He studied her, an element of uncertainty marring his bright expression. "You…you really think that?"

She nodded, folding her hands on his chest and resting her chin on them. "Don't you?"

"Well…I guess I _hoped_ , but…"

"I just think that…judging by…the way things were…" She smiled to herself, biting her lip. "It probably would have happened…on a desk in one of our offices."

Doug laughed at that, and Chell detected the thankfulness within it. She knew him. She'd known he would need reassurance, need to know that she chose him for him, not because she had no other choice. Strangely, though, she found herself in need of reassurance too. She was very much aware of the three years he'd spent alone while she'd been in stasis. Perhaps something had been building between them before GLaDOS, but three years was more than enough time to cool off. Perhaps _she_ was the convenient one here. Maybe she'd revealed too much in her need to comfort him.

"Um…" she spoke up in her hoarse whisper, suddenly scrambling for words, "I don't want to…make you feel _obliged_ or anything. To…to me, I mean. I…I know that your three years changed things, and…maybe we started something…before, but…I know that…you maybe don't feel…exactly as you did, and that's okay…if this is…just… _this_ …that's…that's okay…truly–"

"I love you." He cut off her fragmented speech with a calm, firm tone.

Chell stared at him. That hadn't been exactly what she was expecting.

Doug swept his gaze over her face, frowning as he took in her expression. He raised a hand, tucking her hair behind her ear before settling his palm on her cheek. "I…perhaps I should have told you sooner," he said intently, "but there never seemed to be a suitable moment. It's not something you can just…blurt out."

"No," she murmured in stunned agreement.

"Earlier when you went out into the rain….you seemed so much like your old self, before any of the bad stuff had happened, and it was so good to see you like that again." He smiled gently as he continued, thumb caressing her cheek. "You're…so bright. So…luminous and fierce and amazing. I _couldn't_ look away from you. I couldn't hide it anymore. I guess…I guess I was tired of trying. And then you looked back. Then…this happened," he went on. "I could never have refused you. I've loved you for so long, and wanted you…probably a little longer, if I'm honest." He sighed. "I'm…not being as articulate as I'd like."

Chell smiled briefly, processing his words. Perhaps they weren't the most articulate, but there was a raw honesty to them that she appreciated. She examined her own feelings, realising that she needed to be sure of herself before she responded. She cared for him deeply, she had done for years, but she'd never thought too hard about the exact nature of that caring. If she had, perhaps she would have come to her conclusion a lot sooner.

"I can't pinpoint the moment I started falling for you," she said softly. "It…happened so gradually, I…almost didn't notice. And when I did…we were such close friends, I was too afraid to…admit anything that might change things. I didn't know what was going on. I didn't know…what I wanted. But I know it now. I just want you."

It wasn't clear who moved first, but their lips came together in a heartfelt kiss, one that shed more clarity on their feelings than their stumbling words could. But it still wasn't enough. Her anxious butterflies, quelled by what had happened, threatened to start fluttering again.

 _Just admit it_ , she ordered herself. _Tell him what you finally figured out weeks ago._

"I love you," Chell whispered in a rush when they broke apart.

Doug smiled in what looked like gratitude and partial amazement, pulling her closer. She lay down in the gap beside him, tucking her head into the space between his shoulder and chin. The fire crackled at her back, countering the sound of the heavy rain outside. She listened to the mix of sounds, sleepy and content. Everything was out in the open, even things she hadn't known she was concealing. The future was still uncertain, but Chell felt surprisingly calm about it. She had things she needed to tell him, but she was determined to put that off for the moment. If he rejected her over it, she wanted to be prepared. The rational part of her knew he wouldn't, but she was afraid nonetheless.

 _If I lose him because of what Aperture has cost me… At least I have tonight._

Doug got up briefly to take his evening dose of pills, padding around hunting for a bottle of water stark naked while Chell watched him with a fond smile. He seemed a touch embarrassed to see her following his movements, but the smile he sent her was sweet and almost pleased.

After he returned to the bed, they lay on their sides facing each other, eyes studying faces, hands loosely clasped. Although not all of her concerns had left her, Chell felt content for the time being. Any worries she'd had about things feeling strange had dissipated. In fact, they felt so natural and right that she felt stupid for letting fear hold her back for so long.

Both relaxed, they slept on and off in each other's arms, woken occasionally by thunder overhead that rattled the walls of the house. The fourth time it happened, they gave up on sleeping altogether, both eager to explore their new relationship. In the dying light of the fire, they made love for a second time, feeling that this time, it truly deserved the name. This time it was slower, more sensual, their drowsiness dictating the pace, initially at least. This time they savoured it, and each other, afterward drifting off to sleep as the storm moved away. Neither one of them had nightmares that night.

* * *

 **A/N** : I realised that in order to figure out her voice had come back, Chell needed to make in involuntary noise. So at first I thought maybe sneezing or walking into something, and then my brain went '...Oh... _oh_ '. What that says about me, I have no idea.


	31. Moving Forward

**2035.  
Moving Forward.**

Chell woke up gradually, feeling at ease, peaceful and warm, her body buzzing with a pleasant kind of ache. She stirred, trying to stretch, and the arms around her waist tightened their grip. Smiling, she reached for the topmost hand, threading her tanned fingers through his pale ones. She felt the scratch of his re-growing beard as he planted a kiss on the back of her shoulder. Chell shifted in his arms, turning onto her other side so she could see his face.

Doug wore a soft smile, his mismatched eyes full of warmth. There was a shred of caution to be seen in them too, and she knew that he was a little concerned, as she was, about where they stood and how they'd move forward. Like her, he seemed to be largely confident about the developments, but daylight brought reality with it.

"Good morning," he said quietly.

"Hi," she replied, almost in a whisper, a little afraid that her voice would be gone again. When she heard herself, her single word as clear and soft as her voice had ever been, she couldn't help breaking into a grin.

Doug's smile widened, and he reached out a hand to trace light circles on her arm, seemingly for no other reason than because he could.

"Is it still raining?" she asked, lifting her head off the pillow to listen.

"Yes. We might be stuck here for another day or so."

That prospect didn't bother her as much as it had before, strangely enough. She ran her fingers down his cheek, unable to help herself, needing to connect. Leaning forward, she kissed him softly, sweetly, still getting used to the fact that she could now act on the stray thoughts she'd always had to quell. Neither of them seemed in a hurry to break apart.

"Are you hungry?" Doug asked when they finally came up for air. "We skipped dinner last night."

"So we did," Chell said, remembering, letting out a small, slightly embarrassed laugh. "I haven't done that in years. I mean…you know, for this reason. Sure. I guess we have to get up some time."

"Unfortunately, yes."

A short while later, seated side by side with cups of instant coffee and cans of fruit, they fell into a comfortable silence, one that felt much more bearable than the awkwardness of recent days. Chell couldn't quite believe that so much had changed between them in just a few hours, and yet, on the whole, nothing had changed. And the things that _were_ different were proving to be exhilarating to explore. She hadn't really appreciated just how much she'd been concealing, not just from Doug, but from herself too. She'd never consciously admitted her attraction to him – whenever _that_ had happened – and she knew that the L word had remained safely shut away in her subconscious. The constant butterflies that she'd been feeling had all but vanished, having been a result of her unacknowledged fear of her feelings not being returned.

That everything had come to the fore now that they were free was not surprising. What they'd been trying to achieve at Aperture, both before and after GLaDOS, had been an ongoing distraction from anything else in their lives, and it had slowed the development of their relationship quite severely.

 _It was still there, though_ , Chell reflected, sipping her coffee. _I never saw it at the time, but it was definitely there. No wonder I stopped going out on dates. No one else interested me at all. And god…no wonder we were both so scared when he put me in stasis…_

"We've been total idiots," she mused aloud.

Doug nodded slowly, never taking his eyes off his coffee cup. "So many other people saw it," he commenting, proving that his thoughts were turning over the same things hers were.

"I used to get annoyed with them," Chell recalled. "I thought it was narrow-minded of them to think that a man and a woman can't be close friends without anything else going on. And here we are proving them right. That's…really irritating."

Doug laughed quietly. "I've missed your way with words. But you became pretty close with Adam from Test Subject Observation, didn't you? Are you saying you had feelings for him too?"

She knew he was teasing her, but she nudged his shoulder with hers, exclaiming, "No! It was totally different with him, I didn't ever get distracted or catch myself fantasising about…" She trailed off, eyes wide. "And I'm going to stop right there."

"Oh," Doug said, the word laced with equal parts amusement and disappointment.

Chell covered her mouth with her hand, but she couldn't help laughing. "I guess that actually proves my point though," she said at length, lowering it. "Adam was a true friend, but you…you were always going to be more than that. I just…didn't realise it."

"You're the closest friend I've ever had," Doug told her softly, "but if I'd known that that's what you would become the first time you rushed into Image Formatting, I might have tried harder not to think about you the way I did."

Chell raised her eyebrows in surprise but said nothing.

"Then when you told me who you were, it was a shock, to say the least."

"Because I was a kid when you first met me?" she asked.

"No, it wasn't that. I was a kid too," he replied at once. "I may have been eighteen, but I was naïve and immature. No, it was because you were the one who'd seen what I'd seen, with Darren Wheatley. That experience…it made me feel a bond with you that I had to take seriously. And when you confirmed that you'd come back to Aperture for the same reasons I did, I knew we were still tied together, that…we'd form a partnership. I couldn't afford to let myself get distracted from that."

"I knew we'd form a partnership too," Chell admitted, smiling. "But as for the rest…that was a welcome surprise."

Doug chuckled briefly before draining his coffee cup. "Yes. In hindsight, it really was."

The rain lessened as the day went on, but they didn't pay much attention to it. Instead, they spent their time relaxing, simply enjoying being together, and they talked. Chell tried hard not to overuse her voice, worried that it would disappear again, but she found it difficult. There was so much to say that she'd never written out, so much to elaborate on what she _had_. She gave Doug a more complete account of her experiences in Aperture, telling him all the details she'd had to leave out for the sake of paper space. Her concerns, however, she still kept to herself. She'd vowed to tell him about them, but she didn't really know where to begin, and she couldn't bring herself to shatter the tranquillity that had settled over them.

 _I will, though,_ she told herself firmly. _Before anything more…intimate happens, I will tell him._

But that promise proved difficult to keep, turning out to be a fight that she lost laughably quickly. Time, she knew, would calm the fire between them, but it was still new, still intense and addicting, and she couldn't refuse it. Chell had been forced to become quite proficient at communicating without words, but never had it been so easy to understand, and be understood, so completely than when her world was nothing but Doug and herself and the intensity between them in their heated moments. She could look into his eyes and know that she was loved, accepted, important, and know that she was telling him exactly the same. It was heady and intoxicating, unlike anything she'd ever experienced with a lover before. Although the physical side of it was wonderful and breath-taking, it was the sense of connection that she found so hard to resist.

Afterwards, as they lay in repose, catching their breath, Chell scolded herself for getting swept up again. It would be so easy to simply stay where they were, forget anything about finding their place in the world, or finding Gordon Freeman, or dealing with the _Borealis_. The half-ruined farmhouse had become their sanctuary, their refuge, and she knew she'd be strangely sad when the weather let them move on.

"Doug," she began quietly, idly tracing patterns on his chest with her fingertips. "There's something I need to tell you, and…it's…awkward. I meant to say it earlier, but…I guess I didn't want to spoil things."

His head tilted, and she leaned back to meet his gaze.

"I, uh…I know this seems kind of presumptuous, but…I also know that neither of us would have let this happen if it wasn't going to be something lasting, maybe even…" She stumbled over the word 'permanent', finding it too scary to say aloud, like tempting fate.

"Yes," Doug murmured, apparently grasping what she was trying to say.

"The thing is…there's a chance I can't have children," she spat out in a rush. "Angela came with me to the doctor, and he said that there could be side effects from how long I spent in suspension. My body, my cycle…they're messed up."

Doug looked at her first with surprise, then with concern. "Is it dangerous for you?"

"No. It's…kind of like an early menopause, I guess."

He let out a relieved breath. "That's good."

She frowned. "Yes, but…what about…?"

"Chell, all I want is you. I've never seriously thought about having kids. I'm…not sure I'm capable of taking care of someone else."

"But what if you become sure?"

He fixed her with a steady gaze. " _If_ we reach a point where we make that decision…we'll find a way. We could adopt."

Chell shook her head. "But you've seen enough of this world to know how important it is for humanity to start having kids. I'm…I'm _useless._ "

"You're far from useless."

"I'm not," she protested. "What skills do I have to offer? I had no career path. I was a secretary. You have the ability to do something truly beneficial, you have skills that the world needs, but me… And now I can't even do something I'm biologically built for."

His frown was part bewilderment, part righteous annoyance. "You are _not_ useless. Chell…you brought an entire science facility to its knees. Then saved it again. You kept going in the face of impossible odds. You may not have had a career, but what does that matter? You could turn your hand to anything and be a success, I know it. And believe me when I tell you that you are _not_ defined by your ability to reproduce." He cupped her cheek, searching her face. "Is this what's been bothering you all this time?"

"How could it not?" she replied softly. "I…I don't know if I know how to live in this world. I got so caught up in what was happening at Aperture, it kept me…on the outside of reality, I guess. The worst kind of safety blanket. And now…everything is so different. Being unable to have children is…it's a huge deal. It could cost me…" She trailed off, feeling her throat tighten.

Doug's eyes widened. "You…you weren't afraid that I…?" Something in her expression made him pause. "Listen to me. I love you. I'm never going to leave you. I mean, unless you want me to."

"I don't like to make rash statements, but I don't think I'm going to want you to," she said with a tiny smile.

"Good," he retorted, returning it. "And please trust me: whatever happens, we'll face it together. Isn't that what you're always telling me?"

Chell couldn't help smiling again hearing her own words used against her. "It is."

"Then we should both work on believing it."

She nodded in agreement, saying quietly, "Okay, deal." She rested her head on his shoulder, sighing as he stroked her back soothingly.

"Promise me something," he spoke up.

"I'll try."

"Promise we'll survive whatever we have to do to destroy the _Borealis_. That we'll have a life together."

She was silent for a moment, then said truthfully, "I'll do my best."

* * *

The rain petered off over night, leaving a cooler, fresher bite to the air, as if the weather had finally realised that it was September. Doug and Chell packed up their things and left the farmhouse in the morning, each a little despondent to leave it behind. They couldn't have stayed much longer, though, or their food would run out before they reached Gordon Freeman.

Chell seemed a bit more positive about things, which Doug was glad for. He'd been surprised to hear about her worries, having no idea that she had such a low opinion of her future prospects. She'd achieved so much at Aperture, it seemed unthinkable to him that she would doubt herself in any way.

 _It once seemed unthinkable that she'd return your feelings, but she does,_ he reminded himself.

He'd been pretty stunned by that. If he hadn't been medicated, he would have been hugely sceptical of the hints he'd started noticing in her, thinking they were a product of his imagination. But they'd proved true. And then, amazingly, she'd shown him in no uncertain terms that every gaze held a little too long, every accidental touch, every reaction to proximity had been a result of the way she felt about him. When she'd walked around the fire to him, he'd known. That was the only reason he'd been brave enough to hold his hand out to her.

They chatted as they made their way across the landscape, following the map and the compass Doug had traded his watch for. Chell was starting to be less cautious about her voice, which seemed to be back for good. There was still a subtle rasp to it, but it was as strong as it had been before. He hadn't realised how much he'd missed it, having lost it first from Chell and then from the companion cube. Of course, he could never be as pleased about its return as Chell was. Her delight every time she broke the silence was endearing to see.

As night fell, they made camp, the routine as familiar as always, only this time they set up their sleeping bags side by side rather than on opposite sides of the fire. It was a tiny change, but one that made them both smile like love-struck teenagers.

Gordon Freeman and Alyx Vance had settled near a small town close to the New Mexico border, according to Angela. From there, it would only be a relatively short trip to Dr. Kleiner's lab, shorter still if Freeman happened to have a car. When Chell and Doug were less than a day away from reaching their destination, they stumbled across another dilapidated house to shelter in for the night. It wasn't in as good condition as the first, but they appreciated being able to sleep somewhere that had walls and a roof.

They piled up all their bedding to create a makeshift couch, sitting in relative comfort as they ate yet another meal of tinned food, the fire warming their feet.

"Have you thought about what we'll do if Freeman turns us away?" Chell asked.

"We'll carry on," Doug answered her at once. "It will be harder without his help, but we can still try. He won't turn us away, though."

She shot him a curious look. "You seem very certain."

"How many people know about the ship? When we mention it, it's bound to get his attention. He'll be intrigued by what we have to say."

"You think?" she said with interest.

He turned to her, setting his empty can on the floor. "Wouldn't you be?"

"I would," Chell confirmed, nodding. "But that's just me. We don't know this guy."

Doug smiled at that. "We don't. But apparently the whole world knows him. According to my sister."

Chell grinned. "She was quite enthusiastic. Not as much as Gerry was though."

"Do you think he has a fan club?"

"Who, Gerry?" she said impishly.

"Freeman," Doug responded in a growl, narrowing his eyes at her.

She laughed, wrapping her arms around her knees. "I wouldn't be surprised. You heard what Angela said about this One Free Man stuff."

"People latch on to what gives them hope," Doug commented, staring into the fire. "I can vouch for that better than most."

He felt Chell's gaze on him as she asked, "What gave you hope?"

Doug felt his lips twitch in a small smile. He shot her an earnest look. "You," he said simply.

She reacted with flattered surprise, then smirked. "So…this is just a result of you _latching on_?"

He closed his eyes, sighing. "That is _not_ what I meant. At all."

Chell bumped his shoulder with hers. "I know, I was just teasing." Her expression became pensive and serious. "I'm glad that…you trusted me. _Believed_ in me. Even when I didn't know what I was doing."

He glanced down at the floor, grimacing. "I was the one who put you there. The least I could do was believe in you. Truthfully, though…you made it very easy."

Chell opened her mouth to speak, but then a faint sound tore through the darkness outside, gradually growing in volume. They both glanced at the door, eyes wide.

"Is that…someone screaming?" Doug asked, hearing what sounded like utter panic coming from not far off.

Chell darted off the pile of bedding, snatching up a pistol from her backpack. They'd acquired it in Wyoming as a means of defence, not knowing what they might come across on the road, but as yet it had remained untouched in the bag. Chell had received a handful of lessons from the man they'd traded with, but she looked less than confident as she brandished it and approached the door. Doug picked up the saucepan, moving to join her. As she reached for the door handle, there came a sound like a small car crash, followed by a tremor that they both felt through the soles of their feet.

Chell wrenched open the door. There had been another two buildings beside the one they'd decided to camp in. One of them was now on fire, its roof and upper floor collapsed. The yells had stopped, or were covered by the sound of crackling wood. There was no sign of anything else, either friend or foe.

Doug took in the scene with a single glance, then gripped Chell's arm. "We should go. Now."

"But the man who was yelling…"

"Is probably dead. We can't help him now, we need to leave."

"Don't you want to investigate what happened?" she asked him.

"We can come back in the morning, when there's enough light," he said, feeling the sense of fight or flight that he'd lived with in Aperture. "We need to move before that fire takes hold and spreads."

Chell looked reluctant but nodded. "Okay. But we're coming back," she said firmly.

Moving quickly, they gathered their belongings, pouring earth over their camp fire to douse its flames, even as the building nearby burned. At a frenzied walk that was almost a run, they headed out into the night, leaving the scene behind. They set up camp far enough away to feel safe, but close enough that they could see the glow and smell the smoke. Neither of them slept well, nor did they bother building another fire, choosing to huddle together for warmth instead. Then it started to rain. They pulled their covers over their heads, but it was a cold, unpleasant night. When the cold light of morning crept across the sky, they were both wide awake and slightly damp.

When they headed back, they saw that the fire had been contained to the first house, the rain having arrived in time to extinguish it. They stored their luggage in the building they'd initially occupied before cautiously approaching the wreckage. It was a pile of rubble, blackened beams sticking up at odd angles. There was no heat coming off it, however, most likely thanks to the soaking it had received.

"Any ideas what caused this?" Chell asked, prodding a section of wall with the toe of her boot.

Doug shook his head, studying the mess. "None."

He had turned what little they'd witnessed over in his head hundreds of times during the night, and it was as much a mystery as it had been at the time. He didn't like that at all. It was troubling. Chell seemed as concerned as he was, but her curiosity was a stronger drive.

"It sounded like someone was being attacked at first," she mused, "but then this? It's just…weird. It doesn't make any sense."

Doug watched her try and puzzle it out, his own head irritatingly free of ideas.

"Did something…fall? Is that what brought down the roof before the fire took hold?" she theorised, glancing at him.

"I don't know," he admitted, running a hand through his hair. "If something fell, who was screaming? He sounded…terrified."

"Help!"

They both froze, hearing the muffled cry coming from beneath the rubble.

"Oh my god," Chell muttered, before darting forward and throwing debris aside.

Doug hurried to help her, finding the wreckage cool to the touch and still wet from the rain.

"Help! Oh god, please help me, it's really dark in here."

They both froze for a second time. Doug's eyes widened, and he turned to Chell. She'd gone pale, her hands clenching into fists at her side. Mouth set in a grim line, she backed away, shaking her head. Then, after half a dozen steps, she halted, seemingly changing her mind, and marched back again, shifting the rubble with obvious aggression.

"What are you doing?" Doug asked her.

"I have to know for sure."

He could understand that. He bent to help her, and within a few minutes, they'd dug down deep enough to see the dust-covered blue light that greeted them underneath the debris.

"Hello! I can't believe it's you! That's a piece of luck! Let me tell you, it is _great_ to see you two again."


	32. Building Bridges

**2035.  
Building Bridges.**

Chell stared at the battered metal ball, who in turn was staring at her. He looked in surprisingly good condition for a sphere that had spent three months in space and had then fallen to Earth. His optic sparked as he looked at her, opened wide like an innocent eye.

"Um…may I say that you both look great! Looking…really good and healthy and, um, and not dead. So that's….that's good."

Chell felt a curious mix of emotions stir up in the face of his sudden appearance. She'd missed him, it was true, but that didn't mean she'd forgotten what he'd put her through. It was easier to miss him while he'd been in space, where she didn't have any means of venting her anger. If he'd been human, she could have settled things with a satisfying punch in the face, but that option would only lead to a bruised hand.

"Look, I'm…I'm really sorry," he spoke up. "I'm sorry for what I did to you and to the facility. I'm sorry I broke your trust, both of you. I thought….I thought I could handle the responsibility, but…I was wrong. I was…what did I say before? Oh yeah. I was bossy and monstrous, and…I'm genuinely sorry."

The apology was surprising, but seemed as sincere as Wheatley was capable of being. Chell considered whether it changed things, and concluded that it did. She was still fuming. She thought she would be for a long time. But she was tired of raging at things. It was exhausting, and achieved nothing but giving her more pent-up worries to deal with. She still remembered Wheatley as the friendly little core that had shared her office for over a year. That was what had made his betrayal so much worse, but it was also why she had missed his cheerful tones.

Still, she'd made her decision. Without a word, she turned and stomped out of the ruined house, walking briskly away across the grass.

"Hey! Hey wait! You can't just leave me here! I can't move, I'll get eaten by lions or something!"

Doug caught her arm, making her halt. "Chell, he's right, we can't leave him here," he said in a low voice.

"Yes, we can," she insisted.

"We can't. What if someone else picks him up?"

She fixed him with a steely gaze. "He fell to Earth, and with _literally_ the entire world to choose from, he happens to fall right where we happen to be staying. Somewhere that we'd only have been for one night. Do you really think that's a coincidence?"

"No, of course not," he said, shaking his head. "But the fact remains, we can't leave him for someone else to find. He could start blabbing about Aperture. People could go looking for it."

Chell paused, biting her lip. He had a point there.

"I don't know what he's up to," Doug went on, "but if we leave him here we'll never find out. And…who knows, maybe it's something we'd be interested in hearing about."

She sighed, realising he was right. "Well…maybe we can gift him to Dr. Kleiner to say sorry for destroying his ship."

Doug smiled, looking a little sheepish about it. "That's a bit cruel."

"To whom?"

"Both of them."

"Well, sorry if I don't feel like babysitting," she muttered angrily.

Doug fell silent, looking away.

"I'm sorry," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I don't want to snap at you. I'm just tired, and this is…so not what we need to be dealing with right now."

"I know," he said with a nod, meeting her eyes. "But we have no choice. Let's just…carry on."

"I think we should build a fire and have some breakfast first," Chell decided. "I'm cold. Aren't you?"

"I am, actually. Good call, we probably shouldn't leave without drying off first."

Chell offered him a small smile, reaching out to squeeze his arm. "Go get the fire started. I'll pick up our mouthy friend."

"Okay," he agreed. "Try not to kill him, please."

"Can't promise anything."

As Doug headed back to their belongings, Chell once again picked her way through the debris of the ruined house. Wheatley's optic brightened as he saw her.

"Oh! You…you came back," he said with surprise. "Um…not really sure what to say now. That's never happened before, you coming back. Even when I asked nicely."

Chell crouched down in front of him, addressing him with a stern finger pointed at his optic. "Listen to me," she began.

Of course, he couldn't possibly obey that order. "Oh wow, you got your voice back! That's tremendous!"

"What did I just say?"

"Oh right. Um….sorry."

"We don't trust you," she told him bluntly. "But we're not going to abandon you either. We'll take you with us, but if there is _any_ trouble of any kind, you're out. You hear me?"

Wheatley made a subtle, nervous gulping sound. "Um…yes. Yes, I hear you. Loud and clear. No trouble, got it. Um…thank you."

She nodded, picking him up and standing. She brushed the dirt and dust off him with her sleeve, inspecting him for damage. "You seem in good shape, considering."

"Aperture products. Built to last," he recited. "Able to withstand up to four degrees kelvin."

Chell scoffed.

"Or four-thousand," he amended thoughtfully. "I forget which. Four-something degrees kelvin, anyway."

"But GLaDOS crushed you so easily after we woke her up," she said with a frown.

"Yeah, I know," he muttered with a trace of bitter sarcasm. "She's really strong. That's why she scares me so much."

"Hmm."

She carried him over to the house, where Doug had already managed to get the fire burning. Chell smiled at that. They'd relied quite heavily on the survival skills he'd taught himself over the years.

"What do you want?" he asked, rifling through his backpack. "We have canned fruit or canned fruit."

"Surprise me," she retorted sardonically.

"We're out of coffee."

Chell shot him a sharp look. "What? How did that happen?"

Doug smiled mischievously, holding up the jar of granules. "You said surprise you," he said defensively when she glared at him.

"Never do that again."

Doug chuckled, spooning coffee into the plastic cups they'd been using. Chell crouched down to tug her blanket out of her own backpack, arranging it into a kind of ring shape so that Wheatley could prop up without rolling around.

"So, how did you get here?" Doug asked the core bluntly, when Chell took her seat next to him.

"Um…not sure, to be honest," said Wheatley, his optic shifting. "I think something hit me. I was facing the other way. Bit difficult to control, y'know…in space. Um…as soon as I got within a…some kind of radius of Earth, this beacon thing activated. Didn't even know I had it. It honed in on an Aperture signal and I was able to fall towards it. Don't ask me how. Don't even know. They never told me about half this stuff I seem to be kitted out with."

"Wait, what Aperture signal?" Chell said with a frown.

"That companion cube, I suppose."

Doug glanced at the cube, his brow furrowed. "It's giving off an Aperture signal? I wasn't aware of that."

"You mean…we're trackable?" Chell snapped.

"I…I don't know," Wheatley stuttered, his optic shrinking in alarm in the face of her anger. "I think you can probably turn it off. I mean, y'know, if you take it apart and go digging around."

Doug let out an almost-silent sigh, his gaze dropping to the floor. Chell felt a pang of sympathy for him. She knew how much the cube meant to him, and that he'd now be contemplating leaving it behind for the sake of safety. She reached out and placed a hand on his arm.

"We'll still take it," she soothed him. "It won't make any difference, and we got this far."

"How can you say it won't make any difference?" he murmured, meeting her gaze. "It…it must be."

"It won't make any difference because if the cube is trackable then Wheatley certainly is, so we might as well take it with us."

"What if she's been tracking us this whole time?" he whispered, a touch of wariness clouding his eyes.

"We'll deal with that later. Right now, we have bigger things to focus on. And like I said, we got this far."

He reluctantly nodded, offering her a small attempt at a smile. The water in the pan over the fire started to bubble, and Chell leaned forward to carefully pour it into their cups. She stirred their coffee and handed one to Doug, who accepted it gratefully and curled his hands around it.

"So, uh…what have you two been up to?" Wheatley asked awkwardly.

"Surviving," Chell answered him.

"Good. Good thing to do, the old surviving trick. I recommend it. You, uh, you've always been good at that."

Chell nodded wordlessly, scrutinising him. Wheatley held her gaze for a beat, then nervously directed his optic at the floor, no doubt remembering that her talent for surviving had been challenged by his actions.

They sat in relative silence, the two humans finishing up their breakfast, the edgy personality core making intense studies of the floor and ceiling. Eventually, they were done, packed up, and ready to move on. Chell carried Wheatley as they walked, unable to help smiling as he took in the sight of the landscape, his optic moving this way and that with quick shifts. She doubted he'd ever seen the outside world before, or remembered anything about it from his human counterpart. His childlike excitement at seeing everything was quite endearing. She recalled how he'd been when he'd replaced GLaDOS, how he'd reminded her of a drug addict. Despite her anger, she'd not been insensitive to that. That was the reason why she'd probably end up forgiving him eventually. It had given her more understanding into GLaDOS, after all.

A few days later saw them finally arrive at the small town where Gordon Freeman had settled. Chell and Doug had mutually agreed not to tell Wheatley anything about where they were going or what they were doing. They still didn't know what to make of his sudden reappearance, and it had made them wary.

"We need to visit someone important," Chell told him sternly, lifting him up so he was on eye level with her. "I don't want you to say a word, understand? The last thing we want is for someone to take an interest in you that could lead them to Aperture."

"Okay," he assured her brightly. "No talking unless you say so. Got it."

Chell lowered her arms, unconvinced. Doug shot her a sceptical raised eyebrow, and she shrugged.

"Are you ready?" she asked him.

He nodded after a brief moment of contemplation. "Yes. Let's get this done."

They approached the house, a wooden-slatted, one-level affair on the outskirts of the town. Its windows were dark, giving no sign of life within. Doug knocked sharply on the front door, then stepped back to wait.

"We need to make a good impression here," he said quietly. "We need to convince him."

"I know," Chell replied. "It will be okay."

She glanced down at Wheatley, who blinked his optic but said nothing.

There came the sound of footsteps behind the door, followed by a peculiar mechanical kind of noise. Then it opened, revealing a huge robotic…something that peered at them with a single red eye.

"Aaaarrrgggghh!" yelled Wheatley, which startled Chell more than the strange creature.

"Hey, hey, hey," she told him rapidly, "calm down, it's okay."

Doug stood his ground, his polite smile rather fixed. "Hi," he said to the young woman standing beside the robot.

"There's a thing!" Wheatley went on. "Why aren't you running? What else are those legs of yours for, you bloody stupid woman! Run!"

"Shut up!" Chell retorted, holding him up to eye level again. "Shut up right now or I swear to god, Wheatley, I will disconnect your vocaliser right this second!"

Wheatley fell into reluctant silence, his optic a pinprick of distress.

"Sorry about that," said Doug. "He's…excitable."

"Uh huh," the woman acknowledged. She didn't seem amused.

Chell studied her, taking in her short dark hair, pretty features, coffee skin and catlike hazel eyes. She exuded a well-balanced mix of toughness and vulnerability, with the former currently in play. She stood with her arms folded, eyeing them all with open wariness. The robot simply stared at them, poised either to pounce or retreat depending on what order was given.

"We're looking for Gordon Freeman," Chell told her.

"What makes you think he'd be here?"

"You're Alyx Vance, aren't you?"

"Who wants to know?"

"My name is Doug Rattmann," Doug spoke up. "My niece, Angela Willen, gave us this address. She worked with Gordon a few years ago."

Alyx's eyes registered surprise as she heard the names. "Angela has no family but her mother," she said coldly.

"My sister thought I was dead until recently. There was…some confusion during the war."

"And you?" Alyx asked Chell.

"I'm Chell. I'm…um…" She glanced at Doug, trying to find a name for what they were to each other. "I'm…we're together."

Alyx's gaze switched between the two of them before settling on Wheatley. "What's with the excitable metal ball?"

"Oy!" said Wheatley.

"He's just a robot thing," Chell explained vaguely. "A…personality core. He's not important."

"Oy!" said Wheatley again, sounding a touch more incredulous.

"Quiet."

Doug cleared his throat. "We need to talk to Gordon, if he's here. It's important. It regards the _Borealis_."

Alyx seemed uncertain for the first time, losing a little of her hostility. "Angela told you about that?"

"Yes. She's been working for Dr. Kleiner in New Mexico."

"Kleiner's in New Mexico? Why?"

"It's where his lab is," Doug explained. "And it's where the ship is."

Alyx shot them a frown. "He destroyed the ship."

Doug shook his head, mouth set in a grim line. "No, he didn't. We've come to fix that."

Alyx's eyes widened as she considered the implications of what he was saying. "He…he didn't…" She sighed heavily, wearily. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised," she muttered. Beside her, the robot made a faint whining sound, and she absently patted its side. Glancing up at them again, she sent them a curious look. "No offence, but why should you care?" she asked. "How do you even know what the ship does? Nobody really knows that."

"We know because we worked for Aperture," Chell put in. "We're the only two employees left. And the _Borealis_ is our mess to clean up."

Wheatley shifted to look up at her, optic wide in apparent surprise.

"We were hoping that Gordon would join us if we go and try and talk to Kleiner," Doug said. "I understand they were good friends."

"They were, but they haven't talked in years," Alyx said with a frown. "If Kleiner didn't listen the first time what makes you think he'll listen now?"

"Nothing," Doug admitted. "But we hoped that Gordon's presence would help smooth things over when we destroy the ship anyway."

"Gordon's retired," she told him. "He doesn't get involved in that stuff anymore. After everything he did for the resistance, he deserves to be left alone."

"I'm sure he does," Doug said diplomatically, "but we thought there was no harm in asking. Or at least making him aware of what was going on. Angela said she thought he'd want to know."

Alyx hesitated, looking indecisive. Then a figure appeared behind her, emerging from the shadows behind the door.

"Yes," Gordon Freeman said, "I'd want to know."

* * *

 **A/N:** Apologies to those who prefer mute Gordon. I've always imagined that he can speak.


	33. Allies

**2035.  
Allies.**

Gordon Freeman was not at all what Chell had been expecting. From what she'd heard from Gerry, Julie and Angela, she'd thought they'd be meeting some kind of action hero, but Gordon was…well, _normal_. He stood half a head taller than Alyx, a man of slim, lean build, sporting a head of cropped dark-auburn hair and a neat goatee. His vivid green eyes were steely behind his rectangular-framed glasses, and his voice was naturally quiet.

At his words, Alyx gestured for the robot to move back, which it did obediently. She glanced at Chell and Doug with a solemn look.

"You'd better come inside," she offered. "Dog, go sit in the kitchen. You take up too much space in here."

The robot moved away, walking on all fours, but on its knuckles like a primate. Doug watched it go with interest. Wheatley seemed calmer with it further away.

They all took seats in the plainly-decorated living room. Chell and Doug relayed everything they knew, what their plans were, and briefly explained the fate of Aperture. Gordon Freeman, it turned out, was a man of few words, who only spoke when it was absolutely necessary, with the minimum amount of syllables possible. There was an astuteness to him, however, that somehow prevented his silence from being viewed as rudeness, but rather made him appear a little shy. Alyx was unapologetically protective of him, which Chell thought was endearing considering which one of them had been branded the saviour of mankind.

Wheatley reacted with astonishment at a lot of what was said, but he largely remained quiet, which Chell was pleasantly surprised by. He sat on her lap as they talked, optic moving from person to person. Occasionally Alyx or Gordon would shoot him a curious or impressed look, and Chell remembered how amazed _she'd_ been at his technology when she'd first stumbled upon him.

Eventually, however, the talk came down to one important question, the only question that mattered.

"So," asked Doug, resting his elbows on his knees as he faced Gordon, "will you help us?"

Gordon didn't answer right away, his face stern as he considered. Then he gave a single nod. "I'll help."

Chell felt some of the tension drain out of Doug, his posture becoming a touch more relaxed.

"I should have taken care of it myself in the first place," Gordon went on. There was a weight to his words, the weight of memories, people the world had lost due to the ship's existence.

"When should we leave?" Alyx spoke up. "Tomorrow?"

"You should stay here," Gordon told her.

She scoffed. "No way."

"You know that ship is dangerous."

"Gordon, I'm pregnant, not breakable," she argued.

Chell and Doug both reacted with brief surprise. The baggy sweater she was wearing hid any sign of her condition.

"If I stay here I'll just worry, and that won't do me any good," Alyx added slyly. "Better that I come along so I know you're safe."

Gordon frowned at her, although there was no sting in it. It seemed more a sign of affectionate frustration, as if they'd walked the same conversational path before.

Chell sent Doug a tiny smile. He was watching them with amusement, turning to raise his eyebrows at her. She wondered if he considered Alyx's stubbornness to be equal to her own.

"We'll leave tomorrow," Gordon announced with a sigh of defeat.

"On foot or by car?" Chell asked.

"Car," Alyx replied at once. "Gordon developed a new fuel formula, so we can afford to run one."

Chell nodded, feeling grateful that the trip would be made a little easier. "Is there somewhere in town where we can stay a night?"

"There's the Haven Motel," Alyx said at once. "If you head towards town it's literally the first building you come to."

"What do they charge for a room?" Doug asked her. "We don't have much of value."

Alyx wrinkled her nose. "Not sure. You'll have to ask."

"We'll manage," Chell assured her.

"We'd let you stay here, but we don't have a whole lot of space. Especially with Dog roaming around."

Chell smiled at her. "That's okay. I'm not sure Wheatley's nerves could stand it anyway."

"I'm right here," the core scolded her, moving his optic to send her a narrow-eyed look.

Chell pasted on an innocent expression. "So you'd rather stay? We can pick you up in the morning, no probl–"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Wheatley spat out at top speed, looking alarmed. "No. No, I, uh, I didn't mean….um….you're putting two and two together and getting sixty-four, that's what you're doing there, lady."

Chell laughed, causing Wheatley to assume a decidedly disgruntled expression, although she wasn't sure how he managed it. Even stoic Gordon cracked a smile. Doug shook his head, but he was smiling too.

Chell sent him a glance. "What?"

"Nothing." To Alyx and Gordon, he said, "So shall we meet you back here tomorrow?"

"Yes," Alyx told him with a firm nod. "We don't sleep in late."

"Neither do we."

"Um…excuse me, short-haired lady," Wheatley spoke up.

Alyx shifted her gaze to him in mild surprise. "Uh…yes?"

The core adopted a nonchalant tone that fooled nobody. "That….that… _thing_ of yours. Um…will it…will it be coming with us? Just, y'know, curious."

Alyx smiled, glancing at her lap to try and hide her amusement. "Um, no. I think I'll leave him here to guard the house."

Wheatley brightened instantly. "Oh good. That's good. Um…really good plan, that, having a guard dog. Excellent idea."

His cheeriness seemed to signal the end of the conversation, and Chell and Doug soon said their goodbyes and left the house.

"That went a lot better than I thought it would, after the way it started," Doug admitted as they walked back towards town.

"It did," Chell agreed. "Now all we have to do is figure out how to pay for this motel."

* * *

Paying for the model turned out to be refreshingly straightforward. All the owners asked was that they clean the room themselves the next day and provide their own food, both of which they were happy to do.

"Can I have my own room?" Wheatley asked surprisingly as they walked the corridors. "I've never had a room of my own."

Doug and Chell exchanged a bemused look.

"I know, I know," Wheatley went on, noticing it, "I don't sleep or need a bed or any of that stuff, but it would just be nice."

"Uh," said Chell thoughtfully, "well, we can't give you a whole room. We only asked for one. But…you could stay in the bathroom, I guess. If you _really_ want to."

Wheatley's optic brightened as he looked up at her. "Yeah, brilliant! A whole room just for cores. Great."

Chell shot Doug a look that he interpreted to mean 'this is weird'. He sent her back an 'if it keeps him happy' shrug. She shrugged too, accepting it. He couldn't help but feel that it would be nice to have it be just the two of them again for a few hours. They'd been guarded since Wheatley had joined them, cautious with their words. Doug looked forward to speaking openly again, and to not being stared at when he and Chell decided to be affectionate.

After they'd both used it, they let Wheatley settle in the bathroom, where he rested on a pile of towels in the sink like a prize jewel on a display cushion. They received a cheery "Good night!" in response to theirs. Still seeming bemused, Chell shut the door on the sphere's luminous blue gaze. Wheatley had always had his eccentricities, but the months he'd spent in space seemed to have increased them somewhat.

"I hope neither of us needs to pee during the night," she commented.

Doug watched her cross the floor from his position in the bed. He gave a brief chuckle. "That could get awkward."

Chell got changed into the t-shirt she wore for sleeping, managing to slip in under the covers next to him before she got too cold. The room was clean and presentable but the very definition of the word 'basic'. The heating was either ineffective or not working. He wasn't sure which.

Doug lay awake for several hours after Chell fell asleep, listening to her quiet breathing. His mind was too active to let him drift off, too busy searching for a solution to what was bothering him. It was something that had been creeping up on him steadily, something that now occupied a large percentage of his thoughts. He only had one solution, and it was one he didn't like.

Chell jolted, breathing in noisily as she woke herself up. He absently traced paths up and down her back with his palm.

"You okay?" he whispered, in case she hadn't fully woken.

"Yes," she hissed back. "It was just a weird dream, not a nightmare. Did I wake you?"

"No."

"What's wrong?" She seemed wide awake, nestling in closer to his side, her hand on his chest.

"Nothing," he told her. "It will keep. Go back to sleep."

"No," she replied obstinately. "Not if you're just going to lie here. Talk to me."

He sighed at her bossy tone, but he did as she requested. He _wanted_ to talk to her. It always helped.

"It's about my medication," he began, still speaking softly. The night was peaceful and he didn't want to disturb it.

"What about it?"

"It's…different from other meds." He continued stroking her back as he talked, slipping his hand under her t-shirt. The touch of her skin was always so incredibly calming to him. When it wasn't driving him crazy, that was.

"Different how?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Before I worked at Aperture, I was put on several different things until they found a combination that suited me. Eventually my primary medication became ziprazidone."

Chell frowned. "Isn't that what Aperture gave you?"

"No," he answered with a brief head shake. "Aperture created its own drug: _zia_ prazidone. And it works _so_ much better than anything else. GLaDOS gave me enough for five years, but then what am I going to do?"

"Won't you be able to get hold of ziprazidone?" Chell asked. "Angela said the pharmaceutical companies are–"

"But that's just it," Doug interrupted hastily. "I don't want it. After all these years, going back to that…I don't think I could do it."

"Why not?"

"Because I'd struggle. I wouldn't be…like me. Aperture's brand…it makes me feel normal. Anti-psychotics don't usually work that way. They can help you cope, help you get through your days, but you never feel normal. And I don't want to…" He swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. "I don't want to revert to someone that you may not love."

Chell pushed herself up on her elbow so she could look him in the eye. "Doug, that's _not_ going to happen."

"I know you think that, and I love you for it, but you don't _know_ ," he said vehemently.

"But look how you coped being off the meds for three years," Chell argued, her pale grey eyes steely. "Yes, it was tough. Yes, you struggled, and you had your wild moments, but you stayed _you._ You kept your focus on our mission."

"Do you really think I would have been able to do any of that without taking Aperture-brand meds for years beforehand?" he shot back. "I can't be without them, Chell. I need the formula. I need…I need to go back."

The words fell heavily between them. Doug knew how stupid it sounded after how long they'd fought to escape Aperture, but he saw no other choice.

A brief look of dismay crossed Chell's face, leaving bone-deep weariness in its wake. "Doug, _when_ is this going to end? We need to destroy the _Borealis_ , we need to go back to Aperture? When do we get to just live?"

Despite her irritation, Doug read empathy and understanding in her demeanour. She hated the thought, just as he did, but he knew she'd offer to come with him. He intended to turn her down, but he doubted that she'd listen. Unless it suited her, she never did.

"I have a plan," he told her. "Dr. Kleiner isn't going to be happy about us destroying the ship, with or without Gordon Freeman there. We can soften the blow by offering to show him Aperture."

Chell's expression was one of doubtful concern. "Do you think that's safe? I know GLaDOS has evolved from what she used to be, but…going back, bringing a Black Mesa scientist with us…I don't know. It seems a huge risk to me."

"I know," he admitted. "It is. But I've been thinking about it, and I believe she'd react positively to meeting a scientist who will admire her and treat her with respect. From what Angela was saying, Dr. Kleiner is bound to be enthusiastic. Black Mesa never even came close to creating something as sophisticated as GLaDOS. The Aperture scientists treated her as a… _thing_. Is it any wonder she hated humans for a while?"

"I guess not," Chell said pensively. "And Caroline had every right to be angry. Perhaps more than we know. But I stand by what I said, this could end up being a huge mistake. What if we put Kleiner in danger? And ourselves?"

"You don't have to come," Doug said dutifully.

Chell didn't even dignify it with an immediate response, raising an eyebrow at him instead.

"Right," he acknowledged, amused despite himself. "Stupid comment."

"There's no way you're getting rid of me now," she assured him. "If you go back to Aperture then so do I, but I vote against it. I just think…there are too many things that could go wrong. I can't put as much faith in GLaDOS not killing us as you can."

"When I was making a deal with her for my freedom, she and I seemed to reach an understanding," Doug explained. "She knew about the voices in my head, and she pointed out to me that having those cores attached to her gave her voices in hers. Maybe I'm reading too much into it, but it felt like we'd reached a truce, like she knew I understood how she felt."

Chell sighed. "I get that, truly. But…it seems a lot to risk on something you're not 100% sure about. Especially seeing as it's not just our lives on the line, but Kleiner's too. And most likely Gordon and Alyx's as well, I doubt they'll want to sit this one out."

Doug opened his mouth to reply, but was immediately distracted by the sound of Wheatley's voice, muffled by the bathroom door. Chell shot him a puzzled look.

"Is he…talking to himself?" she asked.

"I'm not sure. I wouldn't put it past him."

Frowning, Chell slipped out of bed and padded over to the door. Doug watched her with curious eyes, hurrying to join her when she cast an alarmed look over her shoulder. She mouthed for him to listen, and he pressed his ear to the door.

"…ship thing," Wheatley was saying. "I can't remember what it was called. Bumblebee or something." He paused to listen to answers that they couldn't hear. "Well I dunno, do I? I don't even know what one of those is. What is a Borie…alice anyway?" After another pause, he continued in a chastened tone. "Right. Yes, of course you are, very busy indeed, I appreciate that now. I mean, after I…after the…incident."

Doug and Chell exchanged a grim look, each quickly comprehending exactly what was going on.

"Do we wait and see what he's planning?" Doug whispered, but he knew from Chell's expression what her answer would be.

"Do we hell," she muttered, already reaching for the handle.

"Oka…aaarrrgggh!" Wheatley yelled, his optic shrinking in shock.

"What are you up to?" Chell demanded, glaring down at him. For a woman in an oversized t-shirt and bed hair, she was surprisingly fierce.

"Up to?" Wheatley repeated in a high voice. "Um….nothing. I was just…filling the silence, that's all."

"Filling the silence?" Doug said, dripping sarcasm. "It sounded an awful lot like you were talking to GLaDOS."

Wheatley opened his optic wide, but the expression of innocence fell flat. "GLaDOS? Uh…no. No, not at all. I mean, why would she want to talk to me? I'm just…" he paused for a moment, then continued shakily, "…um…I'm just a…moron who isn't fit to…talk to anyone at all. Allegedly. Um…no, not allegedly, I didn't mean that, I meant…definitely. Yes! Definitely a moron. Um…as seen by the evidence presented in the last few sentences. Actually."

Chell shook her head, grumbling under her breath.

"Oh," Wheatley went on. "Okay….um…yes, I was talking to GLaDOS. She says I'm a terrible liar so I might as well tell the truth."

"She's right," Doug pointed out.

Wheatley had the audacity to look disappointed at his words, optic lowering sadly. Then, almost as quickly, he perked up again. "Wait, though, being bad at lying is good, right? I mean, lying isn't a very nice thing to be good at. So…you actually paid me a compliment if you think about it."

"Oh, shut _up_!" Chell snapped, her impatience radiating off her in waves. "If you have time in your _clearly_ busy schedule, would you mind telling us exactly what you're doing?"

Wheatley paused for a moment, evidently hearing something from GLaDOS. It was a short enough time for Doug to cautiously believe that she had told him to tell the truth. If she told him to lie, they'd see through it at once, and if she had him repeat anything directly, it would be glaringly obvious that he was doing so.

"She, uh, she knows where you've been," he began, optic shifting to Chell nervously, as if waiting for her to explode.

Chell was still and silent, however, eyes narrowed as she listened.

"She's been keeping an eye on you."

"Through the cube?" Doug guessed.

"Yeah."

"She's…been watching us?" he asked, a sick feeling making itself known in the pit of his stomach.

"No, no, nothing like that," Wheatley explained, making it recede a little. "She's just been tracking you. On a map. That's all. And, and actually, until recently, she didn't even look at it much. The cube's tracker thingy started picking up a signal, something huge and Aperture-made, so she was curious about what it was. She pulled me out of space, sent me down to where you were so I could find out what it was. She's not interested in you, I swear."

"How did she know we wouldn't just ignore you?" Chell asked. "We almost walked away, you know."

Wheatley hesitated, listening again. "She says…she says…" He trailed off, then said rashly, "That doesn't make any sense, mate." He shifted in fear, adding quickly, "Okay, okay, I'll just tell her… I know it's not my business… No, no, there's no need for that, I'll do it, you don't have to _threaten_ me… Well, yes, obviously you _want_ to, but you don't _have_ to, that's what I'm saying. Um…where was I? Okay. She says that Caroline remembers who you are, so she looked you up, and now she knows that your dad built me, so she figured you wouldn't leave me behind because of that."

Doug shot Chell a sidelong glance. Her mouth had fallen open in surprise.

"Is that true?" Wheatley asked, sounding more hurt than he had a right to. "You only didn't abandon me because your dad made me? Not, like, for my own sake? Or because I worked in your office?"

Chell was quiet for a beat, but then answered him with more truth than Doug was expecting. "It was for many reasons, including those _and_ the fact that my dad made you. But I almost walked away because I can't forget what you did. When you were supposed to be on _my_ side."

"Everyone deserves a second chance, right?" Wheatley said with an uncomfortable, nervous laugh.

"Right," Chell agreed with a nod. "So now's your chance to convince us that this–" she made a vague gesture to indicate his communication with GLaDOS "–isn't you royally screwing that up."

"I told you," the core rattled out hurriedly, "she just wants to know what's giving off the signal. And, and, I just told her. So…that's that."

Doug heaved an impatient sigh. "Tell her we intend to destroy the ship."

Chell and Wheatley shot him identical looks of confusion, which – considering that one of them was a metal ball – was rather impressive.

"I'd rather be open about this," he explained to Chell.

He saw the doubt cross her face, but she nodded.

Wheatley relayed the message, and Doug waited for the fallout, convinced that they had just ruined GLaDOS's plans to retrieve the _Borealis_. Perhaps it being back where it belonged was a lesser of evils, but he knew he'd rest easier knowing it was in pieces. The technology was too unstable. The ability to travel across dimensions was power that nobody, particularly Aperture, should have.

"That…that's what she wants," Wheatley reported, sounding as confused as Doug felt.

There was a moment of silence as they all processed the information. Then Chell shook her head.

"No, that…that doesn't make sense. It has to be a trick. Why would she want Aperture tech destroyed?"

Wheatley made a small, unnecessary throat-clearing sound, then explained, "She says that Caroline says that…" He cut himself off, asking, "Who is this Caroline anyway? No, wait! Never mind. None of my business, I know, I know. Don't even wanna know, okay? Don't even wanna know. Right. Caroline, who is a very important and mysterious lady, I'm sure, says that the ship disappearing was a massive embarrassment for the company. The technology was nowhere near ready for public view, and it should never have been in the hands of…of the, uh, moronic scientists who were testing it." He huffed, clearly still sensitive about GLaDOS's word choice. "She says that it's dangerous," he went on. "And that…what? …I don't understand what any of those words mean…" Shifting his gaze to his human audience, he said, "Basically if Black Mesa hadn't caused the massive cock-up with the aliens and whatnot, the ship probably would have eventually done it instead."

Doug seriously doubted that GLaDOS had used the phrase 'massive cock-up', but the meaning was clear. She had an insatiable drive for science, but was smart enough to know where to draw the line. Sometimes, at least.

"Interdimensional travel isn't for anyone," he stated bluntly, "even Aperture."

"She…she agrees with you," said Wheatley, his voice full of disbelief and a touch of awe.

Although Doug had been expecting that from the direction the conversation was taking, it still took him by surprise. He wasn't used to being on the same page as GLaDOS, of all people. He suspected her rational line of thought had something to do with Caroline's reawakening, and he felt intensely relieved that he'd made the decision to leave her presence in GLaDOS's programming.

"She wants me to go with you and report," Wheatley went on. "Uh…if that's all right with you."

Doug looked to Chell, knowing it had to be her call. Her face was a mixture of emotions as she reacted to everything they'd heard so far. She met his gaze, and he knew what her decision would be. He gave her a small nod of agreement.

"You can come with us," Chell told the core, her voice firm, "but after that…" She sent another heavy glance Doug's way. "…After that, we need to go back to Aperture."

He smiled at her, feeling a rush of appreciation at what she was willing to do for his sake, even when she'd made her opinion plain.

Wheatley's reaction was instantaneous, and typically dramatic. "Uh what? No! No, no, no, no, no. I'm _not_ going back there, lady. No. Way. She'll kill me! Incinerate me and shove me in a room with…with birds or something. I can't!" His optic shrunk to a tiny, fearful pinprick.

"You can," Chell countered with a calmness that Doug would have found alarming had he been in Wheatley's position. "We need to talk to GLaDOS, in person."

Wheatley started to babble something else, but ground to a sharp halt. His outer shell quivered slightly, and Doug guessed that GLaDOS was most likely berating him.

"Uh…in that case, she says she'd like to talk to you too," he reported at length. "Um…and also that she doesn't want me anywhere near her facility, so could you please leave me outside, although if you decided to…um, to, to...dispose of me…uh, somewhere unpleasant, then she'd completely understand… Although…uh, could you not do that? Please."

Chell's eyebrows had shot up in mild surprise at the news of GLaDOS's desire to talk, although wariness followed swiftly behind. Doug felt it too, the ever-present suspicion that GLaDOS was setting traps, but he was fighting to overcome it. She had been through so much since first being brought online, and now seemed to have found the perfect balance with Caroline. He couldn't help but feel that GLaDOS had finally become what the scientists had been striving for, and she'd done it all without their interference. There was some irony to that.

"We'll accept her terms," he found himself saying, "if she can guarantee our safety, and that of anyone else we bring with us."

Wheatley relayed the message, then gave them the reply. "She'll agree to that if you tell her who you plan on bringing. She says she gets to choose who enters the facility."

"That's fair enough," Chell muttered.

Doug briefly explained his plan about bringing Dr. Kleiner to Aperture, and mentioned the likely inclusion of Gordon and Alyx. GLaDOS agreed, allegedly understanding why he would need to placate Kleiner.

"She says she's curious about how close Black Mesa came to making the _Boris_ do what it was designed to do," Wheatley conveyed.

Chell smothered a snort at the incorrect name, but chose not to comment on it. Doug couldn't manage to hide his own smile, nodding politely at the information.

"All right. Tell her you'll check back in with her tomorrow. Chell and I need to get some sleep, we have an early start."

Wheatley made a nodding motion. He was passing along the message as Chell closed the bathroom door.

"Is that wise?" Doug asked her, wondering if Wheatley needed closer supervision.

"We may not know exactly what GLaDOS thinks of us," Chell said, heading back to bed, "but I think it's safe to say that she hates Wheatley more. She won't plot against us. At least, not with him."

Doug nodded at the sense in her words, climbing back under the covers that had grown cold in their absence. "Good point."

When she had joined him, Doug rolled onto his side and studied her profile. She shifted under his scrutiny, but it was too dark for him to make out her expression.

"What?" she asked finally.

"Just…thank you," he said with a sigh. "I know you don't want to go back to Aperture. It means a lot that you're willing to."

Her hand darted forward out of the darkness, finding his bicep and giving it a gentle squeeze. "I want you to have a normal life. I don't want any…issues. Or stress. And if we need to get something from GLaDOS in order to have that life…I'll do it. Always."

Doug found himself speechless, amazed – as he often was – that he had been blessed with someone who cared as much as she did.

"Now," she went on, voice lighter, "let me get some sleep, or I'll be in a seriously bad mood in the morning."

Doug chuckled, grabbing her hand and planting a kiss on the back of it before letting her pull it away. "For my own sake, I'll do as you ask."

"Good," she declared, teasingly pressing her cold feet against his leg and laughing when he yelped.

"You're evil," he murmured, rolling away.

"And you, Mr. Rattmann, are still talking," Chell fired back.

He fell silent, listening to her thumping her pillow into a comfortable shape. When she finally settled, he spoke up in the quietest of whispers, "Good night."

Chell let out a quiet laugh. "Good night."


	34. Ship Overboard

**2035.  
Ship Overboard.**

If Chell, for whatever reason, had ever been asked to draw a mad professor, she suspected that she'd have drawn someone like Dr. Kleiner. His pale complexion almost matched his lab coat, his eyes looked permanently wide beneath his square-lensed glasses, and his few remaining wisps of white hair stood out like fluff on the back of his otherwise-bald head.

Of course, it was possible that his eyes looked wide not just due to the glasses, but in surprise at seeing Gordon Freeman on his doorstep. There was a nervous touch of guilt in his manner, and he couldn't seem to help shooting a quick look at the large building nearby.

Gordon and Alyx greeted him warmly, however, convincingly sounding like they had dropped in on the way to somewhere else. They quickly introduced Chell before spending more time presenting Doug. Alyx drifted back to stand beside Chell as Gordon and Doug skilfully engaged Kleiner in what Chell had secretly named 'Science Speak'. Kleiner lost some of his edginess as Gordon continued to play the part of friend-catching-up, soon chatting away with some of the boundless enthusiasm that Angela had mentioned. He was eccentric, to be sure, but seemed harmless otherwise.

Alyx and Chell listened silently for several minutes, awaiting the time that they would choose to plead a smoking habit and disappear outside. Kleiner, however, made it easy for them to slip away, dragging Gordon and Doug down to the basement to see his blueprints for some experiment. Alyx laughingly told them to go ahead, stating that she and Chell had an important discussion about shoes to get back to. Gordon couldn't quite hide his smirk at that.

As soon as the three scientists had vanished down the stairs, Chell and Alyx were out the front door. Kleiner's simple, wooden-slatted house sat in the shadow of an ugly building resembling an aircraft hangar. With no other buildings in sight and a healthy dose of logic on their side, the two knew it was where the ship was being housed. This did not stop Wheatley helpfully pointing it out, however.

Chell was wearing him like a backpack, a couple of ropes tied to his handles. She was pleasantly surprised that he'd listened to her and hadn't drawn attention to himself while they were talking to Kleiner, but she supposed that he had the threat of GLaDOS looming over him.

The five of them had come up with the plan on the way, and they all knew their parts. Gordon and Doug would keep Kleiner out of the way while Chell and Alyx explored the hangar. Alyx would ensure that the place was free of scientists so that Chell could follow instructions from GLaDOS via Wheatley to send the ship on one final journey. It was a simple plan as plans went, but there was one huge flaw that Chell was convinced no one else had noticed. She let Alyx jog off to do her part without mentioning it, following the signs to the bridge.

The ship rested at a skewed angle in a clumsy-looking dry dock. It had obviously been hauled upright by Kleiner's workers in order to build the structures around it. A handful of workbenches formed a makeshift lab alongside the ship, lit by single lightbulbs that swayed on cables from the curved ceiling. Everything about the hangar told the story of its hasty construction. Although it looked able to house a generous handful of workers, the place was mercifully empty. Still, Alyx was adamant about making sure, and Chell wholeheartedly agreed. They entered the ship via the rickety-looking wooden ramp, then parted ways.

The ship bore the wear and tear expected of the years it had spent half buried in ice in the Arctic. Chell had learned that it had been found by a friend of Alyx's father's, who had managed to send them enough information to locate it before she had been discovered and attacked by the Combine. Although the ship was largely intact, the exterior hull was badly weathered. The Aperture logo had partially flaked off, but not enough to prevent Chell's stomach doing a little flip of remembered anxiety when she saw it.

Inside, the industrial-looking corridors were dark and narrow, all indistinguishable from each other apart from the helpful signs on the walls. Once she had found the bridge, Chell retraced her path to the exit several times, trying to ingrain it in her memory. She was acutely aware when her movements passed beyond rehearsal and into the realm of delaying tactics, so she squared her shoulders and forced herself to enter the bridge. It was clearly where Kleiner spent most of his time. The room was largely free of dust and clutter, and there was a mixture of new and old technology where he'd tried to expand on the original workings. Chell eyed the bundles of trailing wires warily, hoping that he hadn't messed things up too much for their plan to work.

There was a dated-looking console that dominated the room, where the navigational controls would have been on a regular ship. She set Wheatley down on the top of it, carefully so that they didn't accidentally press any buttons. His optic lit the dimness a bright blue, gazing at her with open expectation.

"Have you connected with GLaDOS yet?" she asked him.

"No," he replied at once. "Won't take a moment."

"Wait." She shot out a hand, resting her fingertips on the top of his casing. "Do…do you trust her?"

Wheatley blinked at her, sparking gently and making her withdraw her hand. "Um…that's a bit of an odd question, if I'm honest."

"I mean…" She huffed, thinking. "Has it occurred to you that we're potentially handing ourselves to her on a plate?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, she hates you," Chell stated bluntly. "I've only got her word that she kind of considers me an ally now, and we didn't exactly part on good terms. I mean, she expressly ordered me not to come back. Now…we need her to help us destroy this thing, but we're following _her_ plan."

Wheatley cottoned on to what she was saying surprisingly quickly. "You mean she could tell you to press any sequence of buttons and you wouldn't know what you were pressing?"

"Exactly. She says she'll tell me how to program in a time delay, but…if she doesn't, how am I going to know? Do you see what I mean? We need to trust her, but I still don't know if we can."

Wheatley's optic narrowed suspiciously. "Why are you telling me this? You're only going to follow it up with 'we don't have a choice'." His voice turned falsely high in a poor imitation of hers. "If you're asking me whether I wanna stay here and potentially _die_ , then I'm sure it's going to come as a tremendous shock to you that no, I don't particularly want to do that." He shifted a little, emulating a throat-clearing. "I, uh, was being sarcastic there. Just in case you're confused about why I'd think that would shock you, I don't. Okay? Act…actually _I_ would be shocked if you were shocked by that, to be honest."

Chell managed to quirk a smile. "I know, I got it."

"Bit of self-deprecating humour there," Wheatley added. "Being as I'm such a moron and all. Ah, sarcasm. Love it."

"Can we get back on topic?" Chell asked with mild exasperation. "We are actually talking about something serious. Avoiding it isn't going to help."

"I wasn't avoiding it," he said defensively, "I just…I don't know what you want me to say. I don't want to die, but you probably figured that out already. You've always been really good at figuring things out. If you're asking me whether I trust… _Her_ …then no, I don't. She wants to kill me, she's said as much, but…I don't know. You two got really chummy while she was a potato, so who knows where you stand now."

"Exactly," Chell muttered, drumming her fingertips on the console.

There was a long moment of silence while she weighed up her options, steadily watched by an edgy Wheatley, who was broadcasting his nervousness clearly in his twitchy optic movements. Eventually, decision made, she sighed and opened her mouth to speak.

"We have no choice," Wheatley interjected before she could get a word out. "The ship has to be destroyed because we don't want another disaster like this war that everyone's always going on about. We're the only ones who can do that because we need instructions from _Her_ , so we have to stay put. It doesn't matter if we die in the process because humanity will be saved. It's all for the bloody greater good, which apparently makes it all okay." He fixed her with a steady look. "Is that what you were going to say?"

Chell stared at him for a moment, curbing her surprise. "Pretty much. Minus the 'bloody'."

"Knew it," he mumbled. "Has anyone ever told you that you have a hero complex?"

Chell's reply was cut off by Alyx appearing in the doorway. "What do you mean you might die in the process?" she said sharply, frowning.

"There's a slight possibility," Chell told her. "But you'll be outside, you'll be safe."

"Are you saying that there's a chance we might teleport this thing to the bottom of the ocean with you still aboard it?"

"If our informant chooses not to program in a time delay, then yes, that could happen."

Alyx sent her a troubled glance. "There are other ways to deal with this. I'm sure we can rig up explosives from stuff in the lab."

"No," Chell said quickly. "We don't know what kind of materials are in here, it could trigger something worse if we try and blow it up. Draining the fuel and teleporting it away is the best solution."

"Not if it kills you!"

"I don't think that's going to happen," she said truthfully. "When I weigh up the facts…but there's always a strand of doubt. Particularly considering…our past. So, you need to go and wait outside where it's safe, and hopefully we'll join you soon."

Alyx looked highly sceptical, but she nodded. Chell was surprised by how quickly she backed down, but then she remembered that Alyx must have lived a harsh life with the resistance movement. Self-sacrifice had most likely been a frequent occurrence.

"Does Doug know about this?" Alyx asked her, eyebrows pointedly raised.

Chell shook her head. "I don't think it's occurred to him," she admitted. "If…if it goes badly…" Her mind flooded with hundreds of things she wanted to say to him, but she settled on what was truly important. "Don't let him go back to Aperture," she said finally.

Alyx nodded, the corners of her mouth lifting in a tiny smile. "Consider it done."

"Thank you."

"The place is clear," Alyx reported, business-like. "I'll be out by the lab. You'd better come join me soon."

Chell smiled tightly. "We'll do our best."

Alyx sent her a respectful nod, then left the bridge. Chell listened as her quiet footsteps got quieter, then turned her attention to Wheatley.

"Connect to GLaDOS," she ordered softly.

"You can't make me," the core told her, not snappishly, but rather as if he'd just come to the realisation himself.

"I know," Chell acknowledged. "But if you don't, I'll just have to try and figure this thing out myself. In which case, we will almost certainly die."

Wheatley rolled his optic in response, but the lack of a deluge of words made her think that he was actually doing as she'd said. It wasn't long before he reported that GLaDOS was on hand.

Without either of them giving away their concerns about being left on the ship, Chell and Wheatley followed her instructions. For Chell it was a matter of pride, but she suspected it was fear that kept the talkative core silent.

GLaDOS was surprisingly good at giving clear, concise directives, for all that she'd apparently enjoyed being deliberately difficult while Chell had been in the test chambers. Wheatley was obviously repeating everything word for word, as he offered no additional comments or any touch of his own personality. Chell found herself grateful for that. It would only have convinced her even more that she was woefully out of her depth.

She toiled steadily, unscrewing the panel on the front of the console's stand, revealing the bizarre inner workings. GLaDOS was following the original blueprints that she'd allegedly located in her databanks, and Chell hoped fervently that Kleiner hadn't messed around with things too much. Considering his lack of progress, she thought it was unlikely. At GLaDOS's behest, she freed a large glass cylinder of syrupy yellow liquid, tugging it away from the console.

"You need to pour it all out except for an inch or so," Wheatley reported to her. "That'll be enough for one trip."

"What is this stuff?" Chell couldn't help asking, cringing as she carefully tipped it into a nearby empty coffee mug.

Wheatley parroted her question, paused for the reply, then said, "It's a concentrated fuel substance that powers the portal-maker thingy and lets it make portals big enough to transport a vessel of this size."

"Portal-maker thingy? Is that a technical term?"

Wheatley managed to look disgruntled. "She said she put it in layman's terms because we won't understand otherwise. Um…personally, I think she's probably right."

Chell couldn't help snorting in response. "Probably."

Job done, she carefully put the cylinder back in place, gripping the console to get back to her feet. Wheatley passed her the next set of instructions, and she found she could follow them quite clearly thanks to GLaDOS taking the time to describe each button she needed to press. In any other situation she'd have been suspicious of the helpful behaviour, but she knew that GLaDOS didn't mess around when it came to Aperture inventions and their reputation.

She had to actively force herself not to hesitate while she programmed the console, but she was reassured by the fact that – to her amateur eyes – it looked as if GLaDOS was keeping to her promise. The old-fashioned monitor flashed up a location in the middle of the Atlantic when she typed in the coordinates, and when she gave herself a full minute to get out before it activated, a comforting 60 appeared at the side of the screen.

"All you need to do now is press the green button," Wheatley told her. "So, uh…go ahead and do that when you're ready, I guess. She's disconnected now."

Chell exchanged a long look with the personality core, but he offered no more of his opinions on the subject.

"We're doing the right thing," she spoke up. "You know that, right?"

"Will that make me feel any better if this all goes tits up?" he asked.

His tone made her smile against her will, and she offered him a shrug. "I don't know. It might."

"Great," he said with heavy sarcasm. "That's…so good."

Chell didn't allow herself to think of Doug, knowing that it would be too big a test for her composure. Instead, she lifted Wheatley off the console, gripping him by his top handle, and said softly, "Ready?"

"I suppose so."

As she hovered her finger over the green button, the core made an additional noise that almost made her jump.

"Actually," he began, and Chell inwardly groaned. "No, I'm not ready. But…I'm never going to be ready. Gotta just…y'know…do it anyway. So…so go ahead and press the button. You've always been a compulsive button-pusher, haven't you? So go ahead and press it, and then use those legs of yours to get us out of here. Okay?"

"That _is_ the plan," she told him wryly.

Before he had time to answer, before she could overthink what she was doing or debate whether she should have told Doug, Chell jabbed her finger on the button.

She stayed put in the bridge just long enough to see the lights on the console flicker to life. The number 60 had just become 59 when she started running. Under her breath she recited the list of rights and lefts that she'd memorised, but the console had drained all available power, leaving the corridors in half light. It was more disconcerting than Chell had considered, resulting in a few near misses with the turns.

Finally, however, she was running down the long straight to the door. Except…the door wasn't there.

Skidding to a halt, she hissed a frantic curse.

"Left!" piped up Wheatley. "Go back and turn left!"

Fresh out of back-up plans, Chell spun on her heel and did as she was told. Wheatley yelped more directions at her until she found herself back on the route to the door. This time, she could see it standing open in front of her.

Her internal countdown had gotten horribly skewed during her lapse in concentration, but she guessed she had single digits left.

The ship was humming around her, powering up its systems in preparation to jump. Wheatley kept up a steady stream of panicked babble that Chell tried to block out. Then she was out, stumbling across the unsteady wooden gangplank as a fierce wind whipped around her.

"It's opening the portal!" Wheatley hollered at her. "Get out of range of the pull!"

Ahead, Chell saw Alyx clinging on to a girder on the far wall of the hangar. Gordon was beside her, bodily restraining Kleiner who was clearly trying to reach the _Borealis_. They were shouting, but she couldn't hear anything over the sound of the ship.

Doug was much closer, keeping a white-knuckled grip on a ceiling support strut, and she fought to reach him. The tug from the opening portal snatched at her hair and clothes, making her progress slow. Too slow.

Doug's outstretched hand was too far away. With a desperate lunge forward, Chell threw out the arm holding Wheatley. Doug grabbed his lower handle, his expression tight with determination. Wheatley yelped in shock.

There was an explosion of noise behind her, and Chell found herself dragged off her feet, her back damp from the spray of the Atlantic that was spilling through the portal. She clung on to Wheatley, eyes wide and terrified. With a spike of panic she was reminded of another time, not too long ago, when she'd been in a similar position, body out in the depths of space, the frantic personality core her only lifeline.

" _Let go! Let go! I'm still connected, I can pull myself in!"_

Doug's voice cut through her memories with a yell. "Don't let go! Do you hear me, Chell? Don't let go!"

Wheatley added his own shouts to the mix. "Aarrrgh! I wasn't designed to be used like this!"

If she hadn't been busy being terrified for her life, Chell would have shot him a glare.

"You'd better bloody hang on!" he yelled. "I don't want you damaging my handles for nothing!"

"Not much longer!" Doug added. "Hold on!"

As much as she desperately wanted to obey them, her hands had other ideas.

"I can't!" she gasped in alarm. "Doug, I can't!"

"You have to!"

With a cry, her numb fingers slipped from the handle, and she was tugged backwards.

"No!" she heard Doug shout. "Chell!"

A blinding flash of light filled the hangar, and she screwed her eyes shut against it, curling herself into a ball. Fists clenched, she waited for the inevitable embrace of the freezing water and the cold blackness that would follow.

* * *

 **A/N:** Cliffhangers ftw.


	35. Return

**2035.  
Return.**

Doug barely had time to yell before Chell disappeared in a flash of excruciatingly bright light. He squeezed his eyes shut with a brief exclamation of pain. Barely a second later, the room dimmed beyond his eyelids, but it took a moment for his vision to return to normal. The ship was gone, along with the gangplank and the two workbenches that had been closest to it. Chell was gone too.

He felt numb. Knees giving out, he sank down, lowering Wheatley to the floor. His mind raced as he tried to process everything that had happened. It had happened far too fast, had stolen his breath. She was gone.

She was gone, and he had no idea what to do.

He felt a sudden urge for the companion cube's silent support, but he'd left it in the back of Gordon's truck. He was lost. All his plans for the future had involved her in some way. How was he supposed to go on alone?

But then there was a cough.

He looked up with wide eyes, acute hope elbowing its way past his defences, halting all coherent thoughts.

A pair of hands reached up to grip the edge of the dry dock. Chell hauled herself up on wobbly arms, soaked to the skin and shaking badly.

Doug shot clumsily to his feet, accidentally kicking a yelping Wheatley in his haste to help her. Ironically, the dry dock was full of water, the surrounding area wet. Chell's trembling limbs were making it difficult for her to scramble up, and he clutched her arms, helping her pull herself out of the dock. She was breathing hard, looking to be teetering on the outskirts of shock. Heart in his mouth, he placed a hand either side of her face, studying her stunned expression.

"Chell," he said in a choked voice. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head slightly, muttering, "Bruised."

Letting her go, Doug shrugged out of his jacket, draping it around her shoulders. She clutched it, nodding her thanks.

Gordon appeared in his peripheral vision, and he turned to see what the bespectacled man had to say.

"Get her outside," he ordered quietly. "The sun's still pretty warm for this time of year."

Doug nodded in agreement, reaching out to help Chell to her feet. Before they could stand, however, an irate Kleiner stormed up, followed by Alyx, who was plainly trying to calm him down.

"What have you done?" Kleiner demanded, glaring angrily at Chell. "Do you have any idea of the time and research that went into that thing? The experiments aboard are–"

Doug lashed out with a growl of irritation. "Back off, old man!"

Chell's hand on his arm stopped him from saying anything more, but there was a glint of amusement in her eyes.

Gordon stepped in to talk evenly with Kleiner, giving them an opportunity to leave the hangar. The sun was gentle on their skin as they left the shadow of the doorway, and Chell turned her face towards it, eyes closed. Doug sat with his back against the wall, knees bent, while Chell settled between his legs. He traced paths up and down her arms, trying to warm them.

"It was like before," she mumbled, breaking the peaceful silence away from Kleiner's ranting.

"Before?"

"When I…shot a portal on the moon and I was pulled out. The only thing I had to hang on to was Wheatley." Her voice grew quieter as she recalled. "I never told you this, but right before GLaDOS saved me, Wheatley…told me to let go."

Doug glanced at her in disbelief, a sharp flare of anger darting in the pit of his stomach. "He did what?"

"He panicked," she explained with an awkward shrug. "That's no excuse, I know, and I still find it hard to forgive him, but…he doesn't handle panic very well."

"Even still, that doesn't mean he gets to order you to die."

Chell nodded in acknowledgement. "I know. But it's done. I only mentioned it because this time he yelled at me to hang on. After you did it first, admittedly, but he did it. But even still…it just brought all those memories rushing back. I fell unconscious almost immediately after GLaDOS dragged me in the last time, I never had time to really deal with what I'd gone through. So this time…" She shivered violently, and Doug pulled her closer. "I guess that's why I can't stop shaking now. I wasn't in the water long enough for it to have an effect like this."

"It's okay," he soothed her.

At his words, she shook her head, and he turned her face towards him with one hand.

"It is," he assured her, meeting her gaze. "You're the strongest, most tenacious person I've ever met," he told her, drawing a smile. "But it's okay for you to feel like this. Everyone does sometimes. It's not weakness, it's your body dealing with what it needs to deal with in its own way so that you can carry on being strong."

"And I haven't had a near-death experience in a while," Chell put in quietly.

"Uh…no, I guess you haven't," Doug agreed. "Which is…always good."

Chell gave a snort of laughter, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I was so lucky," she said thoughtfully after a moment of silence. "The portal closed just before it would have pulled me through. I think the water pouring in knocked me off course."

Doug said nothing, his mouth set in a grim line as he considered what might have happened, what almost _had_ happened but for circumstances. They sat in silence for a long while, until Chell's trembling lessened, then stopped altogether.

"Are you okay?" he asked her when she fidgeted and sat upright.

She nodded, wrinkling her nose. "My butt is wet," she complained.

Doug raised his eyebrows. "Not really sure how I can help with that. You'd better hope that Kleiner will let you use his shower."

Chell shot him a wry look. "After you shouted at him and called him an old man?"

He grimaced, already regretting his brief annoyance. "I probably shouldn't have done that," he admitted.

"It's okay," Chell said with a grin. "It was very…chivalrous."

By the time that the others joined them, Kleiner had calmed down enough to listen to what the former Aperture employees had to say. Despite his obvious interest in Wheatley, (who did not seem to appreciate being fawned over), his face was pinched in a steady expression of disapproval, which only let up when Chell invited him to the labs. Taking advantage of his apparent intrigue, she took the opportunity to ask about the shower. While she was gone, Doug told Kleiner all about GLaDOS, making sure to leave nothing out. If Kleiner, Gordon and Alyx were going to insist on accompanying them to Aperture, he wanted to make sure they did so with their eyes open.

The plan worked a little _too_ well. Already impressed by Wheatley's technology, Kleiner was unable to contain his fascination with Aperture, and spent the entire journey talking about it, pausing only for food, sleep, and necessary human functions. By the time the group reached Ishpeming, Doug could have quite happily strangled him. Chell kept diplomatically silent, but he could sense her annoyance. Wheatley, who spent the journey perched on Doug's lap, was suspiciously quiet too, clearly disliking the fact that he was no longer the mouthiest personality in the vehicle.

They attracted a lot of attention when they drove into Ishpeming. Doug wasn't at all surprised by that. There were few cars in the town, and none that looked like Gordon's modified Jeep. Still, the thought of the blur of faces peering at them all when they emerged had him grimacing. His medication kept him clear-headed, but large crowds still made him nervous, and he avoided being the centre of attention where possible.

At Chell's direction, Gordon pulled up not far from Trevor and Gerry's house, and the group scrambled out of the car, stretching their stiff limbs. Doug glanced around for familiar faces, spotting curtains moving in several windows. Then the front door opened, revealing Gerry's frowning countenance. Doug offered him an awkward wave, and the older man's expression cleared at once.

"Doug?" he called out. "It is Doug, isn't it?"

He wasn't sure if Gerry was having trouble recognising him or if he had forgotten his name, but he smiled warmly. "It is."

"I thought so! We never thought we'd see you again." Leaving the front door open, Gerry jogged over.

"There's some business to clear up," Doug explained. "At Aperture."

Gerry nodded in understanding. "Well, you know Trevor and I considered leaving after what you told us, but this is our home. We decided to take our chances. And truthfully, nothing's really happened since you left. Brad and Trish went out looking for the entrance to Aperture, but they couldn't find it."

"Good," Doug said succinctly, frowning.

Gerry sent him a smile. "I know. You told them not to. Did you come alone or did you bring lovely…"

Chell jumped out of the back seat right on cue, prompting Gerry's grin to widen.

"Chell!"

She beamed back. "Hi, Gerry."

"You can talk!" he exclaimed, making her laugh. "Oh, that's wonderful!"

"It's certainly easier than writing everything down."

He appraised them both with a searching glance. "You both look well," he commented, sounding pleased about the fact.

"We are, thanks," Chell replied. "Although," she added with a shrug, "it wouldn't be hard to improve on how you first saw us."

"Well, I didn't like to say," Gerry shot back, eyes twinkling. "Neither of you are bleeding this time, so I'll take that as a plus."

They shared a laugh, then Gerry froze, his mouth falling open in stunned surprise.

"Is that…? Oh my god, it is!"

Chell and Doug exchanged an amused look.

"Gordon Freeman!"

Gordon turned at the mention of his name, hiding his pained expression admirably well. He gave Gerry a cordial nod.

"Ohmygosh!" Gerry squeaked, hurrying around the car to shake Gordon enthusiastically by the hand. "Mr. Freeman, I am _such_ a huge fan. It's an honour to meet you."

"Thank you," Gordon muttered politely.

Chell stepped up to Gerry's side, cutting in and stealing his attention to give Gordon a few moments' grace. "We're all heading to Aperture in the morning. We were hoping you'd know of a place we could crash for the night."

Gerry managed to tear his star-struck gaze away just long enough to tell them about a new guesthouse that a friend of his had opened. The group followed him to a large house in good condition, its open doorway guarded by a sleepy-eyed cat. They fully expected to trade work or goods for their rooms, but Gerry's friend settled happily for Gordon's autograph. Alyx quietly fumed about the attention, knowing how much Gordon hated it, but Kleiner seemed openly amused. Doug felt a pang of sympathy for the famous man, but he couldn't deny that it was a good price to pay for three rooms.

They all gathered in the dining room in the morning for breakfast and disputes. It had been decided that Chell and Doug would leave Wheatley with Trevor and Gerry, but Gordon was arguing that Alyx should also stay. Alyx was, of course, in vehement disagreement. Doug sat cradling his coffee cup between his palms, listening to them fight it out while trying to seem invisible. An equally silent Chell and Kleiner had apparently decided on the same tactic.

"I'm not trying to belittle you," Gordon said for the third time, his quiet voice weary. "I just think we need to put the baby first."

Alyx pulled a disapproving face, but she seemed to be in partial agreement. Her hand hovered over the bump beneath her shirt even as she stood up for her independence.

"I know better than anyone how capable you are," Gordon went on gently. "But we said things would change when we became parents. This is one of them."

"I'm not far along enough for it to make drastic differences to my lifestyle," said Alyx.

"No, but if this place can be as dangerous as Doug and Chell have said, I don't want you or the baby anywhere near it."

Alyx opened her mouth to retort, but the newest Freeman took matters into their own hands and stopped the argument in its tracks. Alyx gave a gasp, pressing her palm to her stomach.

"What?" Gordon said, instantly on alert.

"It kicked," Alyx told him, eyes wide. "It's never done that before."

She seized Gordon's hand, placing it on the spot where the baby had made its presence known. Gordon smiled as he felt it.

"I think our child agrees with me," he said softly. "Don't you?"

Alyx gave a heavy sigh, but nodded. "Okay, fine. I'll stay here. Happy?"

"Yes."

She glanced away, and Doug tried to look engrossed in his coffee, aware that Chell was doing something similar next to him.

Wheatley spoke up from his position in the fruit bowl. "You're definitely leaving me behind, right?"

Doug nodded. "Yes, don't worry."

"Oh, I wasn't worried, mate, wasn't worried. Just, uh, you know, _wondering_."

"Of course," Doug said dryly.

Following Wheatley's accidental talent at ice-breaking, chatter started up around the table. Doug turned to Chell.

"What about you?" he asked quietly. "Are you worried?"

Chell swallowed the mouthful of toast that she was chewing, turning to him with a thoughtful expression. "Um…no, I don't think so. I'm _wary_ , but not worried exactly."

He nodded in understanding. "I feel the same way. Sort of…anxious to get going and get it over with."

"Yes, exactly."

"Do you think we can find that hut again?" he spoke up, swirling the dregs of his coffee around his mug.

"Guess we'll find out," Chell said with a shrug. "It's not like we have a choice anyway, GLaDOS specifically told us to go in that way. There must be some structural issues with main reception."

"I, uh, think that might've been my fault," put in Wheatley. "From when I was…redecorating. It's entirely possible that I may have accidentally melted the stairs in that part of the facility."

"Melted the stairs?" Doug repeated incredulously. "How do you accidentally melt something? You know what, I don't want to know."

"Actually it was for security reasons."

"Security reasons?" Chell queried, one eyebrow raised.

"Yeah. I thought if anyone tries to break in, a whopping great hole in the floor would be a good deterrent. I tried to move the stairs elsewhere, but it didn't quite work out. Turns out the incinerator doesn't make for a good storage room."

"No kidding," Chell muttered.

"Oh, don't mock me, lady," Wheatley said irritably. "You're just sitting there smugly with your cup of…whatever that is, you've never tried to run a bloody massive science facility, have you? You've never, y'know, thought to yourself 'you know what, there's this great big room with loads of free space, perhaps I could store things in it', then found out that said room is actually full of fire. Melted six flights of stairs, two small offices, and a bunch of water coolers that were just hanging around. Bit of a pain, really. I had plans for those."

Chell backed down with a quirk of an eyebrow, choosing not to ask what sort of plans involved multiple water coolers. She fell silent for the remainder of the meal, clearly lost in her own reflections in anticipation of the trip ahead. Doug found himself doing the same, although he chose not to dig too deeply. He was afraid of what he might find.

Before long, they were bidding Alyx and Wheatley farewell and climbing back into Gordon's car. Alyx's expression was once of severe disapproval, but she didn't argue.

"If you can't talk to this thing, kill it," she commanded firmly. "I'm not bringing up a half Freeman child on my own."

Gordon valiantly repressed his smile, nodding instead. "Deal."

Wheatley eyed Chell and Doug with a small, nervous movement. "Um…just…be careful, I suppose. And, uh…maybe tell _Her_ that…I'm sorry for what I did."

"Are you actually sorry or are you just trying to make her stop wanting to kill you?" Chell asked with obvious curiosity.

"Both," the core answered at once.

Alyx shot him a bemused glance, and he shifted to look up at her.

"What?"

"Nothing," she replied with a sigh, lightly tapping her fingertips on his outer shell. "At least I'm going to be entertained while we wait, right?"

Gordon starting the engine drowned out Wheatley's indignant reply. He leaned out of the open window to shoot a quick "See you later" to Alyx.

"You better," she responded curtly, her tight smile taking the edge off the words.

Gordon nodded to her, then pulled away from the guesthouse. Doug felt a flutter of apprehension as they finally got under way, casting a glance back at where the companion cube sat silently as ever. He didn't miss having to rely on it, but it did seem quiet without its voice sometimes. Chell wasn't quite as talkative, although her advice was just as sound, and she put his mind at ease much more effectively.

In the front, Kleiner started up his enthusiastic speculation once again, but as Gordon picked up speed, the rush of wind through the Jeep's open sides snatched his words away. Doug was grateful for that. He needed to focus on staying calm, and silencing the small part of him that was aghast at the thought of trusting GLaDOS.

 _If we don't show trust in her, she has no reason to trust us_ , he reminded himself.

But at the back of his mind, he knew he would never quite forget who had killed his co-workers, just as he was sure Chell would not forget who killed her father. GLaDOS, he was sure, would not forget their betrayals either. As starting points went, it wasn't a particularly promising one, but at least they were on somewhat equal footing.

Beside him, Chell was equally quiet, the breeze whipping strands of hair out of her tidy braid and sending them dancing across her face. She scowled but let them be, knowing that trying to tame them would be a losing battle until the car stopped. Her thoughts looked as solemn as his own, and he hoped he hadn't made a huge error of judgement about GLaDOS's sincerity.

 _Well, I guess we'll find out soon enough_.

* * *

 **A/N:** I'll be taking a break for a week or so. We're fast approaching the end, and I've reached the point where I don't have chapters already completed, so I'm afraid you'll have to bear with me. Also, I apologise for leaving you with a filler-ish chapter.


	36. Married To Science

**A/N** : Sorry, that break dragged on longer than I intended. I've been working pretty solidly on original stuff, so that took priority for a while. Then one of my fiancé's friends unexpectedly passed away, so we've been dealing with that, which has been pretty much as you'd expect.

J.P., you never played Portal, and frankly this would be an odd choice of chapter to dedicate to you, but I'm here saluting you on the internet regardless. Take care, mate.

* * *

 **2035.  
Married To Science.**

The car cut a clear path through the wheat field, a straight line leading out from the ruins of main reception. The field was much greener than it had been when Chell had seen it last, the wheat looking withered and badly in need of care. Although the outskirts of the field had looked trimmed and tidy from where the citizens of Ishpeming had harvested their crops, the rest was a sea of neglect.

Chell and Doug stood balanced on the backseats of Gordon's modified Jeep, eyes peeled for the tiny shed that would let them into Aperture's hidden world. Chell blinked, her eyes watering from the wind. The air had a cold bite to it that thankfully hadn't been there when she'd emerged before, barefoot and injured. As she cleared her vision, a shape appeared on the horizon.

"There," she called, pointing.

Gordon twisted to glance up at her, amending his steering to head in the direction she was indicating.

Doug turned his head to look, having been scouting more to the left. His face registered his anticipation and wariness in equal measure. She knew exactly how he felt.

With the direction set, Gordon picked up speed, and Chell tightened her grip on the car's chassis. The wind blew her loose strands of hair out of her face and sent her faded flannel shirt flapping, making her wish she'd buttoned it up. The long-sleeved t-shirt she wore underneath wasn't keeping the chill out.

Her charred companion cube still sat outside the hut, nestled in a square dent in the wheat where she'd moved it to stand on. Gordon stopped the car not far from it, and Chell jumped down, walking over to look at it. She wasn't really sure why, but it made her feel a brief flutter of guilt that it had been left to vanish into the field, and she considered taking it back inside. Then common sense took over, and she stepped away.

She and Doug stood side by side for a long moment, simply staring at the battered corrugated surface of the shed and the perfectly normal-looking warning signs on the door. Behind them, Kleiner started to speak, but was quickly shushed by Gordon, who seemed to understand something of what they were feeling. Chell wondered if he would have felt the same returning to Black Mesa.

With a soft sigh, she stepped forward, halting an arm's reach from the door. She glanced back at Doug, the question plain to see on her face. She wouldn't make any move unless they were both sure. His jaw tensed for a moment, but then he decisively nodded. Chell lifted her hand and knocked.

The door sprung open almost immediately, making her step back. An elevator rose into view in the glass tube ahead, its curved door sliding open invitingly.

Chell hesitated, her heart pounding. Doug stepped up to her side, looking down at her with an openly apprehensive expression. There was determination in it too, and she knew he was going ahead with or without her. Well, there was no way she'd let it be without her.

She slipped her hand in his, gripping it tight. He squeezed back. Together, they stepped through the door.

It closed with a solid clang once Gordon and Kleiner had followed, and Chell tried not to reflect on how ominous it sounded. She let them enter the elevator first, so that she and Doug were facing the door. She closed her eyes briefly as it began to descend, then let them drift open, calm washing over her as she slipped into her usual Aperture state of mind.

She barely registered Kleiner's exclamations of surprise and awe as the journey gave them glimpses of the dark expanse between test chambers. She gazed at the all-too-familiar view of distant green-tinted lights and hanging cables, the insane but impressive sight of what the scientists had built and GLaDOS had expanded. It was another world entirely, one far removed from fields and dirt and storms, from people and politics. With a pang of dismay, she realised that what she'd feared was proving true, one of the many reasons she hadn't wanted to return.

 _I feel safe here_.

Much of her most recent time at Aperture had, of course, been the furthest thing from safe, but the familiarity of its sterile smell and cold, subterranean air was almost reassuring. In the facility, she fitted in. She didn't have to worry about finding a place in the world, or feel inadequate at what her experiences had done to her body, (which was, ironically, Aperture's fault anyway). She'd already made a place for herself, first as an assistant, then as a test subject. Despite everything she'd been through, despite how hard she'd fought to escape, there was a traitorous feeling of comfort in coming back.

Shaken, she glanced up at Doug. He tilted his head to look at her, his blue eyes full of alarm, grim acceptance right behind it. Chell let out a breath, relief flooding her senses as she saw the same struggle in him. He understood. He felt the same way. She didn't need her head examining. Or at least, if she did, he did too.

The elevator sank down into illumination that was almost dazzling after the dim light of the lift shaft. GLaDOS's chamber looked exactly the same. Its curved wall of panels was dark, but the room was lit brightly. GLaDOS herself hadn't changed either. Her amber optic appraised them calmly as the elevator descended.

"Welcome back," she said, her tone carefully free of anything that might have been called sarcasm or sincerity.

Chell had forgotten how intimidating she could be in person, and she wished she could have seen Gordon and Kleiner's reactions. The elevator doors slid open, and she and Doug stepped out. It was surprisingly strange to stand on the floor of her chamber and not be wearing long-fall boots.

"The mute lunatic," the A.I. went on, "and the rat man."

"Hello, GLaDOS," Doug said levelly, his voice quiet.

"I see you left the moron behind. Thanks for that."

Chell had never dignified her with a single answer before, and the words stuck in her throat, going against every instinct she'd honed as a test subject. She pushed through, rattling out small talk as if GLaDOS was a stranger at a party, and conversation was mandatory.

"It's nice to have some peace and quiet," she made herself say. Then she glanced at Kleiner. "Well, sort of."

GLaDOS's chassis moved back a touch at the sound of her voice. The yellow gaze scrutinised her for a long moment, and Chell wondered what she was thinking. If past experiences were anything to go by, there was little chance of GLaDOS passing up the opportunity to make a snide comment.

"Well," the A.I. said at last, "I guess I'll have to think up a new name for you."

"You could use my _actual_ name," Chell replied nonchalantly. "I know you have it on my file."

GLaDOS ignored her, tilting her head to look at Gordon and Kleiner. "And you must be the…Black Mesa scientists."

Her hesitation before speaking the name was small but noticeable. Aperture's rivalry was so deeply ingrained that Chell doubted she could help herself.

"Yes," Gordon answered with a brief throat-clearing cough. "Gordon Freeman and Isaac Kleiner. Pleased to meet you."

Kleiner seemed to have been thrown into a blissful, (and no doubt temporary), bout of silence, his face a picture of wonder and concentration as he studied GLaDOS.

"Hmm," said GLaDOS.

Gordon began a diplomatic and carefully thought out speech about how Black Mesa's Artificial Intelligence department had fallen woefully short compared to Aperture's, but Kleiner interrupted him with a torrent of enthusiastic babble and half-formed questions that appeared to take even GLaDOS aback.

Chell felt a surprising pang of sympathy for her. She had likely never experienced attention of that sort. It could take some getting used to.

"All right, stop," the A.I. ordered after a moment.

Kleiner obediently did.

"While it comes as no surprise that Black Mesa never produced technology like this, I actually do have things to do with my time. So if you could limit your…fawning…to fewer syllables, I think we'd all be grateful."

Rather than being discouraged by GLaDOS's habitual spiky remarks, Kleiner let out a delighted laugh.

"Certainly, certainly. My apologies. It's just…well, I would have given my right arm to work on a project like you!"

"That could be arranged."

Kleiner laughed again. "Wonderful!"

GLaDOS's optic blinked, then turned to the others.

Gordon gave a wry smile. "Yes, he's always like that. You get used to it."

"Do I have to?" GLaDOS asked, hopefully rhetorically.

Doug took the opportunity to take half a step forward. "GLaDOS, perhaps we could talk about why we came here?"

"By all means," she said, rotating lazily to face him. "Tell me why you went to all the trouble of escaping only to come back here after a mere three months, despite the fact that I very specifically told one of you not to."

Chell shrugged off the comment. "Give me a break. We destroyed the _Borealis_ for you."

GLaDOS acknowledged that with a bob of her head. "Yes. So talk."

"I, uh, have a favour to ask," Doug began, stumbling only slightly over the words. "In exchange for a favour."

"A favour for a favour?" GLaDOS repeated, tilting her head thoughtfully. "There's nothing I want from you, Rat Man."

"Actually, I think there is," Doug retorted, his voice gaining confidence. "The testing euphoria. I know you've found a way to live with it, but it's still there, isn't it? It still drives you crazy. And the rewards at the end of a test aren't worth the withdrawal any more, are they?"

GLaDOS reared back a little as he went on, her optic wide.

Chell stepped up to Doug's side, adding her own voice to the argument. "You told me it gets unbearable. Let Doug delete it from your programming. Do science on your own terms, not because you're written that way."

GLaDOS seemed to have been rendered uncharacteristically silent, which Chell thought was a good sign. She was taking the offer seriously, at least.

"What _is_ testing euphoria?" Kleiner asked in a loud whisper, only to once again be hushed by Gordon.

"And in return?" the A.I. asked finally.

"You gave me a huge supply of my meds," Doug said earnestly, "and I'm grateful for that, I am, but…after those five years are up, I don't know what I'll do. I'm here to ask…please, I need the formula, so I can try and make it myself. You know as well as I do, Aperture meds aren't like the ones big pharma produces. And to be honest, pharmaceuticals aren't what they were before the war. If you have the formula on the database…please may I have a copy?"

The following silence was strained. Chell felt Doug's tension, how rigidly he was holding his composure. He was pinning all his hopes on one gamble, and she wasn't sure what he would do if it came to nothing.

"No," said GLaDOS succinctly.

Doug let out a shaky breath, and Chell gripped his arm in support, shooting her a quick glare.

"There's something else you can have," GLaDOS went on.

In unison, Doug and Chell glanced up at her in confusion.

"I took up a hobby after you left," she told them casually. "Monitoring the cooperative testing initiative wasn't enough to keep me occupied, so I started working on something else on the side. Testing with robots isn't the same, you know. I mean, look at them."

She summoned a monitor from the ceiling, showing a half-solved test chamber. The two bipedal robots that Chell had briefly seen before her quick exit were chattering to each other, communicating where portals needed to be placed, then executing the tasks without hesitation. They were impressively efficient.

"So predictable," GLaDOS lamented with a sigh, "even after I had them reprogrammed to imitate human behaviour."

Kleiner and Gordon were watching with obvious interest, so she left the monitor where it was.

"You mean," Chell ventured, seeking clarification, "they're… _too_ good at solving tests?"

"I mean it isn't science if the results play out exactly as you predicted every time. Where's the fun in that? But I'll get on to that in a moment." She turned her optic to Doug. "Rat Man…if you help me get rid of the last voice in my head…I'll do the same in return."

Doug narrowed his eyes at her, his uncertainty evident, but he automatically reached for the container she lowered on a claw.

"Take one of these every morning and evening for six months, and report to me for electrotherapy once a week."

"Electrotherapy?" Chell parroted in alarm.

Doug looked up from reading the label, his eyes wide. "Is this…have you…found a _cure_ for schizophrenia?"

"It's easy to figure out, assuming you have a complete understanding of the human brain and its many complexities. But every brain is different. This cure is just tailored to yours. It would have to be made on a case by case basis."

"How?" Doug stammered. "It's not possible."

"Just because humans never solved the problem doesn't mean it's unsolvable. As a scientist, you should know that," GLaDOS chided imperiously.

"How?" he repeated. "Why?"

"I was bored."

"Did you make any other cures?" Gordon asked her. His tone was that of polite interest, but Chell knew he was thinking of humanity's depleted medical supplies.

"Some," GLaDOS answered. "Just a few simple ones. The common cold, malaria, type 1 diabetes, cancer. Humans are so…delicate."

Gordon's eyes widened as her list went on, but he said nothing else.

"You wouldn't do this out of mere boredom," Chell said with certainty. "What else is going on?"

"You told Wheatley you wanted to speak to us," Doug reminded her.

GLaDOS imitated a sigh. "Yes. I did say that."

They waited with forced patience while the A.I. considered her next words.

"You ignored what I asked you to do, Rat Man," she spoke up.

Doug looked up at her sharply, but his voice was calm. "I did what I thought was best."

"Thank you."

Chell raised her eyebrows in surprise, glancing at Doug. He looked equally stunned, but tried to cover it with a nod.

"You were right, deleting Caroline would have been…a mistake. But with her memories repressed, I can think clearly. What you did took away her emotional response. I can reflect on what happened without becoming…overwhelmed."

Her words were hesitant, reminding Chell of Caroline herself. Doug's theory that GLaDOS had found balance with the human part of herself seemed to ring true.

"In your absence," GLaDOS continued, "I was forced to come to a somewhat annoying conclusion."

"Oh?" Chell said curiously.

"Aperture Science…needs humans." She spat out the words as if they tasted foul.

Chell exchanged a glance with Doug, seeing the concern behind his placid expression. At the back of her mind, she couldn't recall if their agreement with GLaDOS had included the guarantee of their leaving the facility.

"Caroline had big dreams for this place," GLaDOS said, sounding surprisingly wistful. "When she got the job as Mr. Johnson's assistant, she thought she'd be in the perfect position to make them happen. Instead, his crazy ideas got her killed. But," she added grudgingly, "since I'm here, now, I guess I can't fault his decision."

"What dreams?" Doug asked gently.

"She was only nineteen when she first came here, did you know that?" At their head-shakes, she carried on with her narration. "She was one of many secretaries, tasked with typing up documents. It was beneath her, but she used it as a stepping stool. After three years, Mr. Johnson's assistant quit. Caroline had a friend who put her forward for the job. Mr. Johnson didn't take her interview seriously because she was young and a woman, but then she told him the truth about her opinion of Aperture's products. She thought they weren't good enough, she thought a company with so many resources should be dreaming bigger than shower curtains. She thought they could change the world, make it better somehow, so she told him her ideas. He hired her on the spot. Do you know what those ideas were?" She paused for more head-shakes. "She thought the elevator ride into the salt mine was too long, reducing productivity. It's common knowledge that the quickest route from point A to point B is a straight line. She wanted to find a way to travel from point A to point B by making them the _same point_."

"Portals," Doug spoke aloud. "They were Caroline's idea?"

"They were," GLaDOS confirmed. "They took a few years to perfect, but they got there. Although Mr. Johnson never authorised them for staff use. He had…other ideas."

"So Caroline steered Cave Johnson onto the path that led to…well, all of this," Chell said, gesturing to their surroundings and including GLaDOS in it.

"Ironically, yes. She thought she was doing what was best to turn the company into what she imagined it could be. But Mr. Johnson was a force of nature that could not be contained. She found that out soon enough."

"Did Cave Johnson really die of lunar poisoning?" Chell asked bluntly.

"No," GLaDOS replied at once. "It _was_ poisoning that killed him, but the moon rocks were harmless."

"Why did she do it?" Doug said, his words holding an appropriate amount of sensitivity.

"He took something irreplaceable from her."

Her rapt audience remained quiet, waiting for her to continue. Even Kleiner was silent, his eyes wide as he listened.

"Caroline's job was crazy and stressful, and she often saw things she wished she hadn't," GLaDOS told them. "But at the end of the day, she went home to her husband, a man who never failed to make her smile and cheer her up. When she became his assistant, Mr. Johnson told her she was expected to be completely dedicated, to have no other distractions in her life."

"Married to science," Chell said, thinking aloud, remembering the pre-recorded messages she'd heard down in the remains of old Aperture.

' _Sorry fellas, she's married. To Science!'_

"Precisely. Caroline never revealed that she had a husband. Giving him up would have been the logical thing to do, but she couldn't."

"She loved him?" Doug said softly.

"I suppose you could call it that. Science was always the greatest love in her life," GLaDOS told them, the revelation coming as no surprise. "It drove her to accomplish great things, but the price was that she had to leave her morals behind. The knowledge of what she did – what she knew she _could_ do – was why she needed Freddie. He made her feel human again, reminded her that she cared. He kept her grounded, kept her from becoming too much like Mr. Johnson. She needed a part of her life that was far removed from this place."

Chell felt a flicker of sympathy. It was a familiar story. She'd seen her father take the same path, only she hadn't been enough to keep him from giving everything to Aperture.

"Mr. Johnson was…compelling," GLaDOS went on. "It was difficult to be around him and not get drawn into his world. His visions of the future were unlike anything Caroline had ever imagined. She couldn't _not_ be a part of creating it. And he needed her."

That much had been made abundantly clear by the recordings down in old Aperture. Chell wondered about that bright, enthusiastic Caroline she'd heard, whether her passion had been genuine or forced for the sake of Cave and his messages.

"For years, it worked pretty well," said GLaDOS. "She was capable enough that Mr. Johnson never suspected, or even took an interest in her life outside the facility. But he found out eventually. It was around the time that he was starting to look into artificial intelligence. The concept of me was on the horizon, but he had no way of realising it yet. He started small, with prototypes of the technology that would eventually create the moron." Her voice took on a slight sneer at the word. "One day Caroline went into work to find Mr. Johnson very excited about a brand new prototype A.I. that he'd had the lab boys create. In artificial intelligence terms, it wasn't much. Its sentience was low at best, and it mostly did what it was programmed to, but he'd succeeded in capturing a sense of the personality of its base. The mind-mapping process had killed the test subject, but it was a step in the right direction as far as Mr. Johnson was concerned."

Chell gazed up at her in horror, knowing exactly where the story was going. GLaDOS noticed her expression and bobbed her head.

"Yes," she acknowledged passively. "He'd taken Caroline's husband."

Chell covered her mouth with her hand, taking the knowledge in. "I knew he was probably insane, but…I had no idea it extended to something so…malicious."

"In his mind, he'd simply solved a small problem. Freddie was in the way of Caroline's work. He needed her work, so…"

"He had to go," Doug finished, looking appalled.

"Yes. And grief makes people do extreme things. Although it was not purely for revenge that Caroline did what she did," GLaDOS said defensively, "she was also worried that the same thing might happen to someone else. Of course, it backfired on her in the end."

"I do not approve of the lady's actions," Kleiner spoke up, "but one can certainly understand them."

GLaDOS nodded to him in response.

"Did Cave suspect her?" Doug asked. "Is that why he put her forward for this project?"

"No, he never suspected a thing. His mind didn't work in the same way as other people. His only thought was to protect his legacy, and he knew Caroline was the one to do it if he didn't survive long enough to do it himself."

"Why didn't she cancel the project after he died?" Gordon asked, arms folded as he listened to the story.

"She tried," GLaDOS explained, "but Mr. Johnson had had paperwork drawn up and had forged her signature on the consent form. It was water-tight and very complicated. She could have found a way out of it, but not without upsetting a lot of investors, which would have shut the company down for sure. She chose to keep it running, and in the end…she accepted her fate. The project took so long to get off the ground, she had plenty of time. Those final years were her chance to set Aperture on the road she'd always wanted to travel, but she was distracted by the progress in artificial intelligence. Eventually, she would have found a way to get Freddie back, I'm sure. If she'd had the time. As it is, she still has some part of him."

Chell glanced at her, puzzled. The speaker system emitted a soft beep.

"All reactor core functions are normal," the announcer declared cheerfully. "Have a good day!"

Chell's eyes widened in shock. Beside her, Doug seemed equally stunned.

"Is there any way to…save him?" he asked, stumbling a little over the terminology.

"No," GLaDOS replied, her impassive tones hiding whatever opinion she might hold on the subject. "There isn't enough information in the databanks, and _he_ isn't sentient." She flicked her optic up in the direction of the speaker. "Perhaps I could rebuild a fully artificial version in time, but…I'm not sure who that would really benefit. Caroline's guilt might be eased, but that's all."

"I think it could be done," Kleiner said excitedly, raising a hand. "With patience and time, and the right foundation. You said yourself, nothing is unsolvable."

GLaDOS studied him in silence. Chell thought she was pondering the scientist's words, but it was difficult to tell.

"Perhaps," she said at last. "But this leads me to my point. Testing with robots isn't making any progress. Aperture needs humans."

Chell opened her mouth to protest, but GLaDOS went on without a pause.

"I don't just mean as test subjects. I mean staff."

Objection dying in her throat, Chell halted, dumbfounded.

"But," Doug started, jaw clenched, "you _had_ staff. You killed them all."

"It was a mistake," said GLaDOS. "I was young, I was angry, I wanted revenge. I didn't know myself at all, but now I do. You were right when you said I didn't need the testing euphoria. Science is enough. I want this facility to function again, the way Caroline wanted it to. Humanity is depleted after…whatever that was up there. If I want people to work here, I need to make sure they're in top condition. That's why I started creating the cures." She indicated the bottle that was still clutched in Doug's hand. "That _will_ work. You'll be free of your voices and hallucinations. Forever. Then perhaps…you'll consider working here again."

Chell looked at Doug, seeing his astonished expression, and feeling as if she wore a similar one. It was so much to take in, she wasn't sure where to start.

"And you…Chell."

At the sound of her name, she turned to meet the A.I.'s amber gaze.

"The two of you worked so hard to bring this place down. Help me rebuild it the way it should be."

She wasn't sure if it was GLaDOS or Caroline who was asking. She suspected there was no longer a difference between the two.

"We need to think," Doug told her, and Chell nodded her agreement.

"Let us go back to our friends and discuss it," she said, "and we'll return tomorrow with an answer."

GLaDOS reluctantly acquiesced.

"Um…excuse me," Kleiner said with a polite cough. "I would like to stay and see some of the facility, if I may."

"Isaac," Gordon began with a heavy sigh.

"I don't know if you included me in your offer," the older man went on regardless, "but I would very much like to work here! Perhaps a merging of Aperture and Black Mesa is just what humanity needs."

"Of course," Gordon mumbled under his breath.

GLaDOS peered down at Kleiner in apparent surprise.

"The _Borealis_ was a remarkable piece of technology," he added with eagerness, "and I understand that it actually fell short of Aperture's usual standards, which amazes me."

"You may stay and see the facility," GLaDOS said firmly, "and I'll think about the rest."

"Excellent!" Turning to the others, he beamed. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Gordon waved a dismissive hand. "Fine. See you tomorrow."

Chell glanced uncertainly from Kleiner to GLaDOS, but she wasn't overly concerned. Not as she might have been an hour or so before. She followed Gordon and Doug into the elevator, sending the A.I. a courteous nod before they were whisked upwards.

"Well," said Doug after a moment's silence.

"Well," Chell repeated.

"We have a lot to think about," Doug added in a rather spectacular understatement.

She nodded gravely. "We do."

Gordon let them have their silence on the journey back to Ishpeming. When they arrived, he left them alone while he went to update Alyx. They were still sitting in the back of the car when evening fell.

They traded opinions and arguments, throwing ideas back and forth like a ball in a tennis match. Chell's mind was a blur of weighed-up doubts, histories and possibilities, her own hopes and fears underlining the whole thing. Everything she needed to take into account fought for attention in her thoughts, giving her a persistent, thrumming headache. But soon an answer began to take shape, stepping forward out of the muddle. The only thing was, she wasn't sure if Doug would have reached the same conclusion. She was almost afraid to ask, but backing down from things wasn't in her nature.

With a deep breath, she turned to Doug and prepared to speak.

* * *

 **A/N:** I just want to add as a footnote here that Doug receiving a cure for his condition does not – repeat, **does not** – make him any more 'normal' or any more of a person than he was before. His schizophrenia does not define him, but it is an important part of his life, and I don't follow this storyline lightly, because representation is so, so important.

I wanted to play with the idea of GLaDOS deciding not to reanimate the dead as a hobby, but rather try and 'fix' the problems humanity has to deal with. I've never attempted to write a reconciliation between GLaDOS and humanity before, and this seemed like a good olive branch for them to start with. With that in mind, it seemed kind of odd to me that she wouldn't think of Doug as a good subject, particularly since they have some empathy for each other and the voices in their heads. That is the only reason why I went with this idea. Doug Rattmann is a good and pure and **whole** person with or without his condition.


	37. Living With It

**A/N:** Final chapter, guys! I'm sorry it took so long. Once again, I've been really tied up with other stuff. That's no excuse, I know, but my brain isn't very disciplined sometimes.

* * *

 **2036.  
Living With It.**

The sun was hot on the back of Chell's neck; once a welcome heat, now an annoyance. She wiped a hand across her forehead, adjusting her hat. She'd made it herself, weaving strands of straw together until it vaguely resembled a wide-brimmed fedora. It was the most hideous-looking thing she'd ever seen, and she wore it with pride.

She moved into the shade of the house, swinging her basket to the ground. Sitting on the blissful coolness that was the porch, she set to work washing her morning's haul in a bucket, sighing as she dipped her hot hands into the water. She appraised each potato as she scrubbed it, searching for imperfections. It was with some irony that she reflected on her thriving potato crop. It was by far the best-growing food product in the garden. Although she was grateful to have a thriving crop of _anything_ , Chell couldn't help but wish for greater success with the tomatoes, beans, wheat or any of the fruit trees. Anything but potatoes. She ate them, of course, but it was still disconcerting to cook something that had once spent considerable time talking to her.

"Not the same potato," she reminded herself, as she had done countless times since.

A chicken rounded the corner of the house, beady eyes appraising her with a suspiciously judging expression.

"Oh, don't you sass me, madam," Chell addressed it sternly, gesturing with the potato she happened to have in hand. "Start laying again and maybe you'll have earned the right to look so snooty."

The chicken nonchalantly stared at her for a moment, before pecking at the grain that littered the ground. Chell watched it and its companions while she worked, amused by the way they fussed around the yard, their world reduced to the haphazard wire fencing that she had constructed around the borders of her garden. The house was a comfortable size that she had built herself, (with a lot of help from kind volunteers), and the garden was her livelihood. She'd designed it mostly for function, with the vegetable beds, fruit trees, and hen houses taking up much of the space, but she'd left room for flowers and a bench, and a modest memorial spot in one corner. Since it was the only house and garden for several miles, there was plenty of room for expansion if it was needed.

She was just rinsing off the last potato when a noise caught her attention. Glancing sideways, she heard the rattle of a key, then the door to the tiny outbuilding opened and a scientist stepped through. _Her_ scientist, to be exact. She felt a smile break out on her face.

Doug looked stressed, his hair sticking up in wild spikes, but he returned her smile when he saw her, weaving his way through the chickens to sit beside her on the porch steps.

"Hi," he greeted, ducking under the brim of her terrible hat to kiss her.

Chell obligingly pushed it up out of the way, tasting coffee on his lips, inhaling the faint, unchanged scent of the labs that hung about him like a cloud.

"How's your day going?" she asked when he sat back.

"Slowly," he replied at once. "The device is fighting back at every turn. The calibration needs tweaking. _Again_. I can't seem to get it quite right."

"Don't be so hard on yourself," she told him, gently chiding. "You're building a country-wide – potentially _world_ -wide – travel network. It was never going to be straightforward."

"I know," he said, folding his arms over his knees. "It will come together eventually, I'm sure. It's just sometimes…I kind of wish that Caroline had dreamed slightly smaller."

She tried and failed to hide her amusement. "I'm sorry, but she was right. It's stupid to have working portal technology and confine it to puzzle-solving. It _should_ be used to cross long distances, especially now that the world is how it is."

"I know that," Doug said with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I think she's right too. I just have a headache. I want to get on with the work, not be tied up reporting to the damn president. I'm a terrible frontman for this project."

"I disagree," Chell countered, setting the potato down and drying her hands on the legs of her jeans. "The only reason I want you to step down from that position is because you don't want to be there. But otherwise, you're actually pretty good at it."

"The only reason I'm staying put is because I don't trust Kleiner with it," he confided.

"Kleiner seems happy tinkering with the robots. And Angela's keeping an eye on him."

"Yes," he agreed. "He's good at running that department, I have to admit. But still…he'd have the right to get in on this, especially as one of the founders of this new Aperture. I think…I think I'm going to hand over to GLaDOS."

Chell raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Will President James deal with an A.I.?"

"Once I introduce her to him, she'll probably make a convincing case for herself without my help, but I'll try and persuade him. How's _your_ day going?"

"Not bad," Chell reported, nudging the basket with the toe of her boot. "I got a lot of potatoes again. You can take them back with you if you want. Gerry can use them in the cafeteria."

Once again, Aperture ran alongside their lives, engulfing almost everyone they knew. But this time, it didn't feel oppressive. Perhaps it was the state of the war-torn world they lived in, and the fact that the lab's resources were being used responsibly for the first time in years – possibly _ever_ – but Chell knew that neither one of them felt tied to it this time around.

After they had returned from their initial conversation with GLaDOS, both had formed set opinions about the propositions she had laid at their feet. Sitting in the back of Gordon's car, they had shared those opinions and made plans for the future. Chell had admitted how returning to Aperture had made her feel safe, and Doug had said the same, confirming her suspicions that they were united in the realisation that escaping had done nothing to sever their ties to the place. It was there that their feelings differed.

Chell had resolutely decided not to take GLaDOS up on her offer. She had been tempted. The thought of resuming her old job, assisting with the running of the facility, and the familiar and new challenges it would throw up had looked appealing. It would have meant a place and purpose, an answer to the uncertainties she'd been worrying about ever since they had re-joined society. But it would have been the easy way forward, and Chell had never done anything the easy way. Instead, she'd set herself the task of becoming self-sufficient, of building a place to live not far from Julie and Angela, so that Doug could spend time with his sister when he wanted. It was the toughest challenge she'd ever faced, but she'd weathered it and emerged triumphant, providing not only for herself and Doug, but adding to the food supplies of the city of Wyoming and Aperture's cafeteria. Compared to some of the farms, what she contributed was tiny, but it was all helpful, it was all needed, and it gave her more satisfaction than she'd anticipated upon starting up.

By contrast, Doug had become an Aperture scientist once more. For him, it was not about taking the easy route, but a desperate need to go back and fix what had gone wrong. There was no way to undo the past, of course, but Chell knew how much he needed to turn his work there into something more positive than it had been. He wanted to help move the company forward, to contribute to making the world better. She understood his reasoning, even if she couldn't do it herself. He was trying to change his own perception of the place, so that it held no power over him. He could never forget that GLaDOS had killed his co-workers, just as Chell could never forget what had happened to her father, but they both knew it worked the other way too: GLaDOS would never forget how they had worked to bring her down twice. Tentative trust began to build up, bizarrely based on a foundation of mutual _dis_ trust. From there, they were all able to move forward.

Doug was working closely with GLaDOS to put portal technology to the more practical use that Caroline had first envisioned. It enabled him to live in Wyoming and commute to Ishpeming in a single footstep. Chell had built him a small outbuilding, where he had installed one of the panels that she remembered from tests, the ones that had supported the pre-placed portals. It linked to a similar small room inside his lab. Both were kept securely locked, for safety and privacy reasons, and they had proved a successful first application of the technology. Now they were thinking bigger, finding ways to cross states, even continents, as Chell's shot to the moon had already proved that range wasn't an issue. Doug was busy developing different portal frequencies so that there wouldn't be any mishaps with destinations, working on the back of the techniques GLaDOS had developed when building the co-operative testing initiative, which allowed for four portals within the same puzzle.

New Aperture, as they had nicknamed it, had changed many of the lives around them. Chell sometimes went in with Doug, running through a few test chambers for old time's sake. GLaDOS seemed to enjoy the opportunity to be spiky with her again, and Chell didn't mind it so much now that she'd ensured the proper safety features were in place. Without deadly lasers, toxic goo, or lethal turret rounds to deal with on top of the barbed comments, the comments alone seemed much easier to brush off. Secretly, she knew it would have felt very strange to test without hearing them. She'd always enjoyed the challenge of the tests, somewhere deeply buried under the stress, anger and fear. Sometimes she relished the chance to set her garden aside and focus her mind.

Kleiner had happily accepted a job in the labs, and he was working on a series of non-sentient robots to aid with manual labour, dabbling in artificial intelligence on the side. Doug's niece, Angela, had joined as his assistant, and to ensure that he didn't get too carried away. Gordon had been offered a post, but had politely refused on grounds of enjoying his retirement. He _had_ , however, taken on the task of distributing some of GLaDOS's cures, which had only served to heighten his hero status, despite his adamant claims that he had had nothing to do with their development. He quickly gave that up, not just because of the attention, but also due to the fact that he and Alyx had their hands full following the birth of Eliza, their daughter. Occasionally, he would take some time out to visit and join Chell in running a few co-operative tests, and the two often engaged in friendly competition, despite the fact that the tests called for teamwork.

The citizens of Ishpeming had benefitted from Aperture's re-emergence. Many of them got jobs there, as office clerks or test subjects, (again, with proper safety protocols in place), and Gerry had happily taken over the cafeteria. Chell had learned that he'd shown an interest in cooking before the war, and she was pleased that he'd managed to find a way to integrate it into his life. Trevor, like her, opted to stay aboveground, but he had his hands full growing produce for the sudden influx of residents in the town, mostly scientists who came to join Aperture's new ventures.

Chell had a pleasing balance of solitude and company between her garden and the labs, and she could escape to either one as she wished. She didn't even have to worry about Wheatley, as Angela had fallen head over heels as soon as she had been introduced to the talkative core, and had offered to look after him, instantly fascinated in his construction. Although GLaDOS had not relented on her decision to keep him away from Aperture, Angela still learned enough in her spare time to start developing new cores, albeit ones without the combination of ambition, selfishness and resentment that had led to Wheatley's disastrous time in charge. Wheatley, in return, seemed to enjoy her company without the edge of guilt that would always taint his relationships with Chell and Doug, and the two of them muddled along well together, although Julie found his presence in her house trying, to say the least.

"You know what the hardest thing has been?" Chell spoke up, all the introspection making her want to share some of her reflections.

Doug blinked, momentarily taken aback by the change of topic, unaware of Chell's lengthy thought process. "What?"

"Learning that we were going about things all wrong by running away from Aperture. We spent so long trying to escape. It was so jarring when it didn't really solve anything."

"I know what you mean," he said with a nod. "The solution to our peace of mind wasn't escaping Aperture but finding a way to live with it."

"We couldn't have figured that out any faster than we did, though," Chell added with certainty. "We had to spend the time doing what we did in order to come to that conclusion."

"GLaDOS had to reach it too," Doug said quietly. "Do you think you can ever forgive her? Truly forgive her, I mean?"

Chell was silent for a long while before answering. She'd asked herself the same question many times before.

"I don't know. It's hard. It feels…impossible. But even if I don't forgive, I do understand. I get why she reacted the way she did. So that's a start, I guess." She shrugged. "That's more than I expected, given our history."

A comfortable silence fell between them as they sat in the shade, looking out over their garden. Chell never forgot how lucky they'd been, how close they'd come – on multiple occasions – to never having a life like the one they'd built.

"I should get back," Doug said at length, stretching his legs out.

"You haven't eaten," Chell reprimanded.

"I had a sandwich before I left. I just wanted to see you."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Rattmann," she said with a grin.

"I'll hold you to that!"

She stood up to give him a hug, sending him off to the outbuilding that housed the portal with her usual parting words.

"Go make the world better."

Holding the basket of potatoes in one hand, he turned to awkwardly give her a salute before disappearing through the door. She watched him go with a fond smile. Another unlikely hero, like Gordon. Like herself. She knew Doug would never accept the label, but she'd given it to him in the privacy of her own thoughts. The war had made unlikely heroes of many people. Secluded from it in Aperture, they'd faced their own.

Left alone, Chell sat back down on the top step, watching the chickens peck. Wheatley had developed a strange sort of fearful fascination with them the last time he and Angela had visited. He was terrified of them because they were birds, but somewhat mollified by the fact that they couldn't fly. After pushing past his initial alarm, he'd taken to making brash observations about them, bolstered by the bravado of being propped safely out of reach on the porch steps. He still wasn't sure what to make of the cockerel.

Chell glanced towards the memorial in the corner of the garden, pondering what she'd said to Doug. She'd been honest with him about how she felt about forgiving GLaDOS. She didn't know if she ever could, and she had no answers for whether that was fair or not. It seemed utterly unthinkable, if she was brutally honest, and she knew it had played a small part in her refusal to work at new Aperture. But once upon a time, understanding the reasons why GLaDOS had done what she'd done had seemed impossible too, and yet Chell _did_ understand, and even felt a tiny measure of sympathy. That was a step towards forgiveness for sure. The problem was, Chell didn't know if she _wanted_ to forgive, whether it would feel like a betrayal to her father and all the others that had lost their lives to tests and neurotoxin.

She tried to think about what her father would say, what kind of advice he'd give, but the harsh truth was that she just didn't know. He'd closed himself off from her in later years, to the point that she was forced to accept that she hadn't known him very well. At the end, at least. She hoped that he'd have told her to be true to herself, because her own judgement was all she had to go on.

Perhaps she would forgive. One day. And when that day came, perhaps she'd be okay with it.

"Time will tell," she said aloud. "You can't force it."

When she'd first started to develop a friendship with Doug, what she'd appreciated most about him was the way they could bounce opinions off each other, and argue their points in a fair debate. That hadn't changed, even if everything else had, but their conversations often made her face things she'd rather not. She knew it was good for her, but it wasn't always welcome. Still, it was a small price to pay to have him in her life.

Her life was good. It wasn't what she'd expected after everything she'd been through, and she was grateful for every part of it. She'd lived so long on a knife's edge, with the weight of tension pressing down on her, and then in an adrenaline-fuelled nightmare. There was nothing in her new life that ever surprised her, and she found it refreshing. Eventually, she suspected she'd tire of it and seek out something to keep her more challenged, but for now she relished just how reliable everything was. Nothing changed unless she gave it express permission, and she was more than happy with the feeling. She didn't want to be surprised by a single thing for a good long while yet.

Much later in the afternoon, while she was elbow-deep in the vegetable patch, there came the rattling of the lock on the outbuilding, and Doug's head appeared around the door, his expression preoccupied and apologetic.

"Uh…" he said.

Chell stood up, old fragments of alarm starting to uncurl in the pit of her stomach, and she cursed herself for tempting fate with her earlier thoughts. "Oh god, what?"

"I may have accidentally…" He took a deep breath, and Chell braced herself. "…agreed to watch over a toddler," he spat out, words hurrying over each other after his initial hesitation.

Chell blinked at him.

"She…Gerry found her. In the wheat field, next to the body of her mother. They were starving. I mean…well, the girl had had food, but obviously the mother hadn't, and…she's all alone, I figured we could look after her for a bit. We have the space. I know I should have asked you, but…it's literally just happened and GLaDOS has just invented a no-children policy. Gerry and Trevor don't have room to take on a child, I don't want to ask Julie, so I just thought…" He trailed off again and shrugged.

Chell took in his anxious demeanour, taken aback by his obvious desire to help. She'd never really labelled him as the paternal sort. In fact, his own words to her had spoken of his concerns about whether he was even suited to childcare. Of course that had been before, back when he'd still been coping with his condition, not giving himself enough credit for his control over it. Now he was free of it, but barring a residual, outward sense of calmness that he'd never allowed himself before, he was largely unchanged.

She debated whether _she_ could handle taking care of an orphaned toddler, and whether she really felt up to it, but she was already moving towards the outdoor water pump, rinsing the soil off her hands.

"Lead the way," she said.

"You don't mind?"

"I was an orphan once too, remember?" she told him, joining him in the outbuilding and locking the door behind them. In a single step, she was standing on the Aperture-standard carpet tiles of his lab. "We should help where we can until we can come up with a long-term solution."

He met her gaze, nodding firmly. "Agreed."

Feeling strangely nervous, she added, "She shouldn't stay too long, though. I wouldn't want her to get attached."

"No, nor me."

"And someone should do something about the poor mother."

"Gerry's taken care of it." He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "If only she'd been able to make it into town."

Chell reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. "She still might not have survived," she said gently. "You know as well as I do that it's a harsh world out there now."

He nodded. "That's why I wanted to help. The girl…she's not old enough to understand what's happened. She only knows a few words, but one of them is 'Mom'…or some variation of it, at least."

She squeezed his hand again. "So let's go help."

Doug looked down at her, and she saw her own nervousness reflected in his face. Briefly, she wondered why they were putting themselves through it, but she knew how desperate he was to help people, to atone for those he couldn't help before. It was the right thing to do.

Together, they left the small room that the portal was locked away in, walking Aperture's familiar corridors on the way to their mercy mission. It was simple: they would look after the girl, find her a place to live, someone to love her, then, when she was ready, she would leave. They could handle a short period of responsibility, Chell was sure. It was the simplest plan in the world.

It happened exactly as she'd intended it would. Almost.

They did look after the girl, and when she was ready, she did leave…at the age of twenty-three, when she wanted her own space.

In hindsight, Chell wasn't surprised that their daughter had come from Aperture. Their lives had always been tied to it. They'd just needed to find a way to live with it in peace, and peace was a luxury they'd finally earned. She could live with that.

The End.

* * *

 **A/N:** That's it! Thank you to everyone who has read this story. I hope you enjoyed it. Double thanks to those who left a review. Nothing is more encouraging than that :D I haven't got any more Portal stories lined up as yet, but you never know. Feel free to follow me if you're a fan of Chellmann (or Sobiwan in the Star Wars fandom, because I doubt I'm done with them either!)


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